


Dangerous Games

by SexySuitcase



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Cheating, Double Penetration, F/M, Fist Fights, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Humor, Sneaking Around, Threesome - F/M/M, Violence, danger fetish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexySuitcase/pseuds/SexySuitcase
Summary: In my dull, boring life, I could only be sure of two things. One: I was well on my way to graduating summa cum laude from ULSA and two: Tracey De Santa was the one person I could count on for excitement. She was my complete opposite, though we had always shared a bond like sisters...which made it awkward when I started fucking her dad behind her back.Whether it was the thrill of being with a married man who I was almost certain could kill me in more ways than I wanted to imagine, or it was actually something real, I wasn't sure. But, in one night, I was sucked into something pretty dangerous and I knew I didn't want to stop.





	1. Wanted: Excitement At Any Cost

AN- What's up? Happy to see you here, taking a peek at my fic. Though, now that you're here, I may as well give you a bit of a head's up about what you're about to read. I'm sure everyone and their mom has written a Michael/OC or Treavor/OC and that's fine. I'm okay with being just one in a sea of many. These boys are just too much fun to play with. But, if you're not tired of the cliches, and you wanna read something fun, something full of sexy smut, and danger, then this will be for you! Remember, this is all for fun! No need to get bent out of shape! I will appreciate every kudos, every comment and hit that I receive :D

Ok, now you can read on! 

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“You know,” Tracey De Santa said, popping the lollipop out of her mouth with a loud smack from her glossed lips. “if you really want some excitement, you should try shoplifting.”

I stared at my friend, wondering what I even saw in this friendship. We were the complete opposite of one another. During high school, she was the extremely popular, hot, drama queen where as I tended to concentrate more on my studies than what the latest gossip was. Sometimes, I wondered if she and I stayed friends for so long out of habit.

I was her first friend when she moved to LS and as she climbed the social ladder of the school over the next five years, I tagged along behind her. Oh, who is that girl always hanging around Tracey? Is that her sister? Never understood that one. We looked nothing alike. Another example of that complete opposite thing.

But, as confusing as our friendship was to most people, her parents included, I was thankful for her. She was the only person who could show me how to have a good time, which is exactly what I needed right now. Unfortunately, her definition of a good time and excitement were far different from mine.

Blinking, I dipped my hands into the cool water of the pool beneath my float, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for that kind of thing. I was thinking more along the lines of…taking a random vacation and hooking up with a guy I don’t even know.”

Tracey scoffed from the other side of the pool as she kicked her legs slowly through the water. As my float drifted toward her, she pushed me away and I sailed to the other side, facing their house. “That’s like, a typical Friday night for me.” Her words went in one ear and out the other. I was suddenly interested in the scene unfolding inside the kitchen.

I could see Mr. and Mrs. De Santa through the French doors as they stood on opposing sides of the kitchen table. Even if I couldn’t hear their raised voices, it was clear by their body language that they were screaming at one another. Which was typical. Those two fought like cats and dogs on a good day, but this was intense. I sat up as Mr. De Santa kicked one of the chairs, sending it toppling to the tile floor. “Uh,” I glanced back at Tracey who was scrolling through her Life Invader page, her legs still kicking through the water. “Is everything okay with your mom and dad?”

She looked up and rolled her eyes at the scene in the kitchen. By now, the gorgeous floral arrangement that sat in a crystal vase on the dining table was shattered against the wall behind Mr. De Santa’s head. “Dad’s acting like a titty baby because mom had an accident and now she’s being sued. Like, everyone gets sued once in their lives. He’s blowing this way out of proportion just because he has to cover her court costs and settlement fees.”

“Ouch,” I muttered, turning back to the domestic dispute that I’d rather not be witness to. It was like a wreck, though. I couldn’t look away. “What kind of accident?”

“She hit a pregnant woman with her car, but like, the woman was leaving a bar so, was she even really pregnant? I’m, like, pretty sure she’s just wanting money. Oh!” She fluttered her feet excitedly in the water, splashing me with a few droplets. I swiped them off my legs and glanced back at the house. It seemed things were calming down…either that, or it was the calm _before_ the real storm. “That guy I was telling you about, the one from Tequi-La-La, is having a party tonight! Let’s go!”

Tracey jumped up from her perch on the side of the pool and grabbed one of the towels we had laid out as I rolled off the float and into the water. She held one out for me and I took it, climbing the steps out of the pool. “I might have to buy a new outfit for this,” she grinned at the thought of going on a shopping spree and lead the way to the French doors.

Mrs. De Santa had disappeared, but her husband was still at the dining table, standing behind one of the chairs and gripping it in tight, white knuckled fists. He barely looked up as we came in, Tracey obviously unfazed by the enormous blow out between her two parents. I moved cautiously behind her and paused in the doorway as she walked up to her father and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Can I have some cash?”

He looked at her, his eyes ablaze with fury that she had the audacity to ask for money at a time like this. But, in true Tracey De Santa fashion, her puppy eyes and pouty lips softened his anger and with an exasperated sigh, he reached for his back pocket. “Don’t blow it all in one place,” He muttered. I could hear the weariness in his voice.

“Thanks, Daddy!” With another kiss to his cheek, Tracey brushed past him and counted the bills as she made her way toward the living room, leaving me to awkwardly catch up.

It felt rude not to say something, _anything_ , to him. I smiled politely as I stepped around the table, clutching my towel to my chest. “Hey, Mr. De Santa. How are you?”

The look on his face almost broke my heart and I could tell he wasn’t used to hearing anyone ask how he was. He lifted his hands from the chair and shrugged helplessly. “I’m fuckin’ dandy. How are you, Lilah?” His tone was bitter, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. Instead of shying away like I wanted to (Mr. De Santa was always rather intimidating to be around), I paused at the arch between the dining room and living room. Tracey had left me behind and I could hear her sandals slapping against the tile staircase.

“Can’t complain, I guess.”

He nodded and before I could turn to catch up with my best friend, he opened his mouth and gestured toward me with his hand. “How’s school goin’?”

It was a question I hated to hear and hated to answer. School was school. It sucked major dick, but it was one of the few things I was naturally good at and so I stuck with it. Forcing the same smile I had perfected since middle school when estranged relatives and friends of my parents asked me the same question, I took a deep breath to repeat the usual spiel. “It’s going well. I hope to graduate next year and after that, who knows?”

“Ah, you’ll do something great, I’m sure. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

The smile on my lips slipped and I could feel a frown threatening to pull my brows together. “Maybe. I just wish…” I trailed off, cursing myself for letting my guard down around him. What did he care, anyway? He obviously had way bigger problems on his plate than me feeling stuck and bored with my life.

“What?” He frowned, not expecting me to actually say something sincere. It broke up the illusion of polite conversation we had been having for the past few years. Befriending your best friend’s dad wasn’t something teenagers usually did, after all. But, as he watched me, waiting for me to finish, I could see that he was genuinely curious about what I had said. It almost made me feel like I _could_ admit to him. But, no. I had just heard him screaming with his wife. The last thing on his mind was me or my weirdness. So, I forced the smile again and took a few steps backwards into the living room.

“It was good seeing you again, Mr. De Santa.” Before he could say anything else, I turned on my heel and hurried to the stairs. From the landing, I could hear Jimmy’s TV at volumes that could rupture an eardrum as well as Mrs. De Santa on the phone in her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed, speaking to whoever in hushed whispers until her eyes lifted to mine. I smiled, but she didn’t return it. Holding the phone to her chest, she took two steps toward the door and shut it. Not bizarre behavior for her. She had always been rather cold to me, though I don’t really know why.

I turned to Tracey’s room where she was already stripping out of her bathing suit, not caring that her door was wide open, or her blinds. She admired her tan lines in the mirror above her vanity and turned to show me the new jewel dangling from her belly button. “I don’t know if tan lines are _in_ this year, but I am so loving mine!”

“Looks great.” I hope she didn’t notice how unenthusiastically I said it, but then again, this was Tracey. Unless you spelled it out for her, she probably wouldn’t get it. She picked up a bright, blue tube top and slipped it over her chest, neglecting a bra. As she rummaged through her drawers for a decent skirt, also neglecting panties, I turned to my clothes laid out on the edge of her bed. My panties weren’t in the same place I had put them, making me look up at the door. _Jimmy_. “Jesus, I think your brother was sniffing my panties.”

“Fucking gross! I _so_ would not put it past him.”

Just knowing that a garment he had put his face into would be next to my crotch disgusted me. It wasn’t like I hated Jimmy. He was actually pretty funny. But, for the past three years, he had made it his life mission to fuck me or something and I was not into him like that. He was like my own little brother for god’s sake. I tossed my panties into Tracey’s trash can and pulled my shorts up around my waist. Going commando while wearing jean shorts? This was going to be quite uncomfortable, but it was better than wearing pervert tainted panties.

Besides, if we were going shopping, I could always pick up a new pair.

“Oh, is this part of your new mission to find excitement?” Tracey asked, gesturing to the lower half of my body. I started to laugh her off, tell her she was being ridiculous, but I stopped myself. This would be a nice baby step into having a bit of excitement. A little secret that only I would know (because let’s face it, I wasn’t ready for the whole ‘find a random guy and fuck him’ plan). Maybe going commando under a nice dress wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as jean shorts. I looked up at Tracey and smiled.

“It is now.”

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AN- Well, I hoped you liked the start! Let me know what you think...the next chapter has it all: Action, smut, Michael being the hot bad ass that he is <3 

 


	2. What A Horrible Night To Not Wear Panties

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If explicit content irks you, don't read this chapter...or this story...  
in fact, why did you even click on an Explicitly rated title? Shoo! If explicitly described sex does  _not_ in fact bother you, you're in for a treat! 

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My decision to go commando had turned out to be a rather poor one. By midnight, Tracey and I had been to the party she had mentioned earlier that day where a plethora of rainbow colored shots were being passed around like water. Within an hour, my lovely best friend was absolutely shitfaced and after another thirty minutes, she was starting a fight with a group of women who all looked to be in their 30’s.

We were clearly not the appropriate age group for the party, which turned out to be more of a fancy soiree than an actual party. I had been imagining frat guys, red solo cups full of poorly mixed drinks, and endless games of beer pong. It was clear within fifteen minutes upon walking through the door that we did not belong.

Tracey refused to leave, promising me a night of the excitement I was so desperate for. Boy, she had been right about that. After pulling her off a woman, we were promptly kicked out of the party without either of our purses. It was fine for me. All mine had was a bit of cash and lip gloss but Tracey had the brilliant idea of taking her mother’s car to the party and the car keys were three stories up the mountain in Vinewood Hills.

Which brings me back to my previous misery of being without panties, wearing a skirt that was probably far too short for that kind of thing, and trying to find a comfortable place to sit on the curb without showing my goods to every passerby. But, as unfortunate as my situation was, I was still beyond thankful I wasn’t Tracey in that moment.

“Hi, Daddy?” She stumbled a few steps away and sniffed, adding emphasis to the sob story she was about to tell her father. “We were at this party and a woman was being really mean to Lilah—” I blinked in bewilderment. No one had been mean to me! “And, I tried to defend her and we got kicked out of the party and they refused to give me back my keys or purse so we have no money and no ri-i-ide.” I couldn’t tell if her sobs were genuine or not. She was usually a messy drunk anyway. A night of bawling her eyes out into a toilet was nothing out of the ordinary.

But, she was almost as good an actress as she was a depressed drunk. The girl could lie through her teeth about anything. Especially to her parents…and even more especially to her father. There weren’t many times in our friendship where Mr. De Santa didn’t come to Tracey’s aid when she called him crying.

On the other end of the call, I could hear him. “Alright, where are you now?”

“Normandy drive,” her voice was absolutely pitiful, the epitome of poor-little-rich-girl. “We’re in front of a huge, ugly house on the hill.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks Daddy! You’re the best.” She pressed her screen to end the call and whirled around on her heel to face me. In her left hand was the phone but in her right was something she had managed to snag from the party. It was a half empty bottle of vodka and she swirled it around, enticing me to have a few sips. I was no longer in the mood to drink and I blinked up at her.

“You couldn’t grab your car keys, but you grabbed a bottle of vodka?”

“Oh, come on, Liles!” Her words were already slurring as she dropped gracelessly to the curb beside me. I was pretty sure she was going commando as well, but judging by the way her legs were spread, I didn’t think she cared. “We’ve got twen-ty minutes to chug this shit.”

The cap popped off the bottle and was thrown immediately into the shrubs behind us before Tracey turned the bottle up and grimaced as the alcohol hit her throat. Between her hiccups, she gagged and passed the bottle to me. “Your dad said fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah,” she said, laying back in the grass. “But, he drives like a mor-on so we’ve got plenty of time.” Her hand swiped toward me, the bottle actually, but I held it away from her and sighed. She wouldn’t last fifteen minutes, or even ten. She was fucked up and I knew she’d be passed out before her dad would be here.

Sighing, I turned the bottle over and dumped the contents out into the street. “Hhheeey. Don’ waste it!” Tracey managed to slur before laying back in the grass. The only sound from her after were snores. How the hell had she sobered up enough to call her dad? Had she really sounded genuine or did he know her too well by now to believe her? Then again, he was probably trying to avoid another lawsuit.

I tossed the bottle in the bushes behind us and crossed my legs out in front of me, wincing at the pebbles sticking to the back of my thighs. Just what I needed; road rash on my vag. What a wonderful night of excitement this turned out to be. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the sky. Maybe this was the only excitement that I would ever have. Parties, getting drunk like my mother, and passing out shit faced on the grass. Maybe there was nothing else.

Hell, I didn’t even know what I was looking for. Just…something  _ else _ , something that I would remember for the rest of my life, something dangerous and life changing. Whatever that was.

A pair of headlights broke through my thoughts as a car rounded the curve in the road and pulled to a stop just down from us. Wow. He was way faster than I thought. Groaning, I managed to push myself up on my feet and bend down to help Tracey into a seating position. “Come on, you bitch,” I mumbled, smacking her cheeks with the back of my hands.

“Huh? Wha?”

“Your dad’s here. Let’s go.” With all of my strength, I hauled the girl to her feet and slung her arm over my shoulder. I wasn’t the smallest girl in the city, but I couldn’t lift Tracey’s ass by myself. And it didn’t seem like her dad cared enough to get out and help.

I lifted my head and stared at the headlights of the car. Wait…wasn't his car black? Why was he driving some blue--Oh, no. The passenger side door of the car opened and my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. Tendrils of smoke poured out from around the door and the man who stood from the seat was definitely  _ not _ Mr. De Santa or anyone I knew, for that matter.

“You girl’s need some help?” His wide grin revealed several missing teeth and I could just make out a word tattooed across his knuckles as he leaned an arm over the door. Before I could tell him to leave us alone, the driver’s side door opened and another man stood. He looked worse than the first guy.

Long, stringy hair fell around his shoulders and I could see a thick, gold chain around his neck. He took a drag of the cigarette in his mouth and blew the smoke up to the sky. “Looks like they do.”

“I call the blonde,” Toothless said, moving around the car door. I took a few steps back, struggling to hold Tracey up as they made their way closer to us.

If I screamed, would anyone hear or care? Would the people in the party laugh and think we got what we deserve for disturbing their party? The house across from us was empty, with a real estate sign out front. I had to do something. Tracey was clearly not in any shape to fight off an attacker. She would be easy prey in her current state.

Just as I opened my mouth, another set of headlights behind us lit the area. The door opened and I heard a strange metallic click that stopped the two men in their tracks. “Don’t move, you piece of shit.” Mr. De Santa growled as Toothless reached for his waist band. “Unless you want a hole between your eyes to match the holes in your teeth, I suggest you back the fuck up.”

Trying to support Tracey on my right shoulder and get a good look at what the hell was going on was proving to be difficult. She mumbled what sounded like ‘hi, Daddy’ before her head rolled back against my shoulder again. Thankfully, the two men seemed to believe that Mr. De Santa was fully capable of putting a bullet hole in their heads. They backed toward their car and dropped inside, not wasting a second before peeling away.

“You two alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Mr. De Santa stepped up to me, taking his daughter’s arm and slinging it around his own neck. He supported her weight with ease, lifting her off the ground completely. I felt an awkward mix of gratitude, terror, and relief. I hadn’t realized until now that I was trembling. I wrapped my arms around my waist and stood on the curb, waiting for instruction like I was a little child.

From over the car, Mr. De Santa looked at me as he pushed Tracey into the back seat. She flopped over and fell right back to sleep, completely oblivious to the danger we had just been in. “C’mon.” He said, breaking me from my daze.

I hurried to the passenger side and slipped into his car. The leather seat was a bit cool against my bare backside and I felt my face flush. How strange was it to be without panties in my Mr. De Santa’s car. He had driven me home countless times, took us to the movies or to get food after school. And now, my bare ass was sitting on his leather seats. I took my bottom lip between my teeth and pulled my seat belt around me, clicking it into place.

“Hey.” His voice startled me and I looked over at him. “You alright? You haven’t said a word since I got here. Did those pricks touch you?”

“N-no. You got there before they could do anything but scare us. Thank you,” I said, ducking my head.

He didn’t respond. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him put the car into gear and press on the gas pedal. It was clear that he had thrown on the first pair of jeans he had found. There was a bleach stain across the thigh and judging by the wrinkles, they looked as if they had been in the bottom of the laundry heap for a few days. But, he still smelled the same as he always did. Cigar smoke and some sort of spicy soap smell that men his age all loved to use. It was a thousand times better than whatever cloud of spray the younger guys wore in place of an actual shower. At least, Mr. De Santa smelled  _ clean _ . 

Jesus, why did I like the way he smelled?

The ride through the Vinewood Hills was a quiet one and I didn’t know whether I was thankful for that or not. On one hand, talking would have drowned out the snoring from the backseat but on the other, what would we have talked about? Silence stretched on as he turned onto the familiar street their house was on. I sat back in the seat, unsure of how to ask him if he would take me home. It was already far too late to be asking favors. But, I knew if I had to sleep in Tracey’s bed, next to her snoring for the next 8 hours, I would never get any sleep.

“Mr. De Santa?”

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking at me as he pulled into the gate of his driveway.

“Would you mind driving me home? I just…I kind of just want to be in my own bed tonight.” I bit my lip and looked down at the hands in my lap, unable to bring myself to even glance at him. I didn’t want to see the look of anger he had given his wife and Tracey earlier that day. Instead, he sighed, put the car into park and put his hand on my knee. Instantly, my entire body tensed up and I managed to lift my gaze to him.

“Yeah, I’ll take you home. Let me get Tracey up to her room.” With two pats to my knee, he turned to the door and stepped out. I waited with my breath held tight as he pulled Tracey from the backseat and hauled her up the front steps of the house. The outside lights were off as well as most of the interior ones. I could only see the kitchen light on as he opened the door and disappeared inside.

It was only then did I let the breath out of my lungs, my eyes darting to the space on my knee he had just touched. My heart hammered wildly against my chest as my stomach turned non-stop somersaults. Why had he touched me? It hadn’t felt like anything more than a quick gesture that he would give to Tracey or even Jimmy in a similar situation. So, why was it causing this reaction in me?

It could be the fact that it was the first time I had been touched by a man in over a year or it could be the feelings I had for Mr. De Santa when I was a teenager were starting to bubble under the surface of my skin. The crush on him had been nothing but teenage fantasies projected on the only man besides my father I had known. And even then, I had managed to forget them after I had lost my virginity. For years, I had chalked it up to the backed-up hormones that masturbating couldn’t properly release. After having sex for the first time, I had been so fixated on my boyfriend that I forgot about my feelings for my best friend’s father.

But, now…Now, it was like I couldn’t breathe. The place on my knee that he had touched was burning and little electrical pulses were shooting up my thigh to my naked nether regions. I didn’t know how much time I had before he came back down, but I was so curious. Hurrying, I opened my legs and dipped my hand beneath my skirt. The tips of my fingers came away damp and I stared at them in the faint light from the street.

How was I this wet after such a small, insignificant touch? Or, had it happened before that? Hearing the gun click, his deep voice growling threats to those men, the way he had looked me over in the seconds after to make sure I was alright. Oh, Fuck.

The front door opened again and Mr. De Santa slipped through, shutting it gently behind him. I clamped my legs shut and wiped my fingers on the hem of my skirt, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of skin that was exposed. Did I look awful? Should I even care? In the seconds it took him to reach the car, I had gone through several crisis thoughts. I cursed myself for not wearing underwear, for listening to Tracey, and for going out tonight at all.

But, all of the jumbled mess inside my head came to a screeching halt as soon as he got back in the car. His scent was stronger than before. Or, maybe, I was just paying more attention to it now. “Alright, let’s get you home. Marlowe Drive, right?”

“Mmhmm.” I nodded and turned toward the window, wishing I wasn’t so awkward and could carry on a normal conversation. Although, what conversation could be normal at 1:15 AM when you’ve came to the realization that your childhood crush might not have completely dissolved. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I cleared my throat and forced myself to say something. Anything was better than silence. I almost wished for Tracey’s snoring. “Thanks again, Mr. De Santa. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“Ah, I was awake anyway. And please, call me Michael. ‘Mr. De Santa’ makes me sound as old as I feel.” He gave a short laugh that sounded more bitter than he probably meant it to, but I nodded, looking at him from behind a curtain of my hair that I hoped would hide my obvious staring. Five o’clock shadow covered his face but not enough to take away from his looks. It made him seem more rugged and I wondered if it would feel rough against the palms of my hands. No. God, what was I doing?

One touch and I was suddenly launched back into the fantasies of my 16-year-old self. I cleared my throat once more, hoping the sound would interrupt any thoughts of touching his face. “Still, it’s late and I feel bad about disturbing you.”

He shifted in his seat, taking the wheel with his right hand as he slowed to a stop underneath a red light. He ducked his head, staring up at the light as it lit his face with a red glow. “Trust me, I was already disturbed. At least this way, I have something to distract me from the impending legal fees that are about to come out of my pocket.”

Ouch. I had almost forgotten about the huge argument he and Mrs. De Santa had earlier that day. Now that he reminded me, I couldn’t stop thinking about the chair he sent bouncing across the dining room as they argued. It sent a little trill of electricity through me to think about now and I shifted in my seat. What a horrible night to not wear panties. “Oh,” I looked over at him as the light turned green and he sped beneath it. “Tracey told me. I’m sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. Shit happens.”

“I know, but I—” My words were cut off as the car behind us bumped into the back of us. I lurched forward, barely putting my hands out on the dash to stop my face from smacking into it. The tires screeched as Mr. De Santa slammed on his brakes and whirled around to face whoever had rear-ended us. I did the same, turning just in time to see a pair of headlights shine across my face before the car slammed into the back of us again. The force of the hit pushed Mr. De Santa’s car up onto the curb and into a bench that was completely demolished beneath the front fender.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!”

As the car behind us backed up, I let out a small breath of relief. They were backing away and it was clearly a mistake. But, the sound of their wheels burning over the asphalt made my heart leap into my throat. They were trying to hit us again. Reacting far faster than I ever could, Mr. De Santa threw the car into reverse and stomped the gas pedal down to the floor, sending me forward again.

The force of him hitting the front of the other car knocked me back and I let out a small shriek of utter confusion. “I don’t fucking think so,” he muttered, reaching across my lap for the glove box. Without thinking, I pressed myself as far back into the seat as I could, not wanting to risk him touching my bare skin for a second time. My eyes were wide as he popped open the glove box in front of my knees and pulled out a gun. The same one from before? I couldn’t tell for sure. All guns looked the same to me.

He threw open the door and two shots fired out into the night, louder than I expected them to be. I covered my ears, keeping my eyes fixed on Mr. De Santa as he raised the gun for a third time. This time, he didn’t get a chance to take a shot. The car raced by, the windshield shattered and fender scraping the ground as they went. But, I could still recognize the car as the one from earlier in the night. Toothless and Greasy Hair were back for revenge, apparently.

Whether they had been hit or not, I didn’t know. I hoped they were, but judging by their driving, I would think not. Mr. De Santa fell into the driver’s seat, throwing the car into gear before the door was even shut behind him. “Hold on,” he growled, and it took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. I clamped my hands onto the seat below me.

Within seconds, we were behind them again, racing down the Boulevard at speeds that were extremely unsafe. I checked the belt around my waist and sent a silent prayer up to any deity that was awake to listen to me. If I made it out of this alive, I was never going to go commando again, or listen to Tracey when she wants to drag me to parties in Vinewood Hills.

“Mr. De Santa!” I screamed as the tires rolled over a piece of plastic (their bumper?) that fell off the car in front of us. He swerved around a car going far too slow for a high-speed chase and I shut my eyes tight, bracing myself for the inevitable crash. I could feel the car straightening itself out and I managed to peek out.

The lights from the Boulevard were zipping past us. Neon and bright fluorescent colors passed by like a strobe light, with headlights flashing across the car before disappearing. “Please, slow down!”

“I’m not letting these fuckers get away,” he spat, smashing the butt of the gun against the window at his left. It exploded outward and I couldn’t swallow the scream in my throat. He put the gun out the open window and fired several shots. Some bounced off the metal trunk of the car in front of us, one hitting the back window and another clipping the back tire. The car jerked to the left and in seconds, it smashed head first into a parked car on the side of the street.

We zipped past the scene and I was foolish enough to breathe a sigh of relief. It was short lived, however. Mr. De Santa whipped the wheel to the left and the car spun completely around, tires screeching across the pavement. We faced the wrecked car, the headlights shining on the busted bumper and shattered windshield. My chest ached from breathing so fast and I smoothed my hair from my face with shaking fingers. “Mr. De Santa, what—”

He opened the car door, cutting my words off. “Stay in the car and keep your head down,” he ordered, making my mouth quickly shut. I watched him make his way calmly to the other car, the gun pointed to the street but kept firmly between his hands. As the driver’s door opened on the wrecked car, I tensed and held my breath. Mr. De Santa stopped and held the gun out in front of him, but it was clear by the moaning, bloodied figure that fell out of the car, the driver was no longer a threat. He rolled onto his back and spat a mouthful of blood that splattered his face. I could see his lips moving, but whatever he was saying was too low for me to hear.

The sound of metal grinding and groaning pulled my attention to the opposite side of the car. Toothless emerged, stumbling onto the sidewalk. He whirled around, arm raised with a small, black pistol pointed in the general direction of Mr. De Santa. The gun fired off in five, quick pops that made me jump with each one. None of them hit their intended target from what I could tell. As Toothless clicked the empty gun over and over, he braced himself against the edge of a trashcan. “No, wait! Don’t—”

Mr. De Santa fired three shots, two hitting the man in the center of the chest and the other clipping the side of his neck. Blood spurted from the wounds and my hands flew to my mouth. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. This all felt like a bad dream that I couldn’t wake up from no matter how hard I pinched myself. Over the tips of my fingers, I watched this man I had grown up knowing, the father to one of my best friends, walk up to the other man laying bleeding on the ground. His hands were out in surrender, his body writhing from the pain he was in.

Mr. De Santa raised his gun and pointed it at the man’s head. It would have been an easy shot from that close of range, right between the eyes. But, for whatever reason, he turned to look at me. In the bright fluorescent lights of the street and headlights, I could see his face soften. He lowered his arm and walked back toward his own car, calm, cool and collected.

Without a word, he got back behind the wheel, shut the door and shifted the car into drive. We pulled away from the carnage and I couldn’t help but stare at the body of Toothless slumped against the trash can he had been holding onto only moments ago. The boulevard passed by us in the same blur it had earlier as we sped away from the scene. An ambulance and two police cars passed by us in the opposite direction and I noticed Mr. De Santa checking his rear-view mirror as he drove.

After it was clear that the police would not be turning around to chase us, he slowed to a sensible speed and took a right into a residential neighborhood. These streets were darker than those we had just left and I was thankful. I took a deep, shuddering breath but it felt as if no air was reaching my lungs. I gulped in more, my vision clouding around the edges. Oh, god. I had felt this before, back when I was staying up all night to study for my SAT’s.

Panic gripped my spine with icy fingers and I sucked in a deeper breath, this time alerting the man to my left. “Hey,” He said, glancing at me quickly. “You alright?”

I nodded, but my gasping betrayed me. My chest ached, as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks on it. The car slowed and pulled into a driveway of a house that looked empty. I watched him turn on the over head light and pull me by the shoulders to face him. His hands took my face as he searched me over for any wounds. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

“No,” I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut. “Panic…attack.”

“Shit.” He smoothed the hair down on the sides of my head and looked into my eyes. “Just focus on me, alright? Take deep, slow breaths.” I did as he instructed and kept my gaze locked onto his, concentrating on breathing in slowly and letting it out. My pulse still raced, but the pressure in my chest was starting to ease with every deep breath I took. After several more minutes of breathing, I stopped focusing on counting the seconds between them and noticed that he was still stroking my hair.

It didn’t help my heart rate in the slightest. But, the panic was starting to subside and staring at him was better than replaying the scene of him killing that man. I was faintly aware that the same hands that were in my hair at the moment were the same that pulled the trigger to end a life but, either I was ignoring that fact, or it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I didn’t know which was a better option.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked me over once more. “You alright?”

I nodded, not sure I would be able to even speak. A few seconds passed and I held my breath, not sure why he had glanced down to my lips. Did he…Was he going to…

No, he definitely did not kiss me. Mr. De Santa dropped his hands from my face and checked the rear-view mirror before reversing into the street. I sat back in my seat and stared down at my hands in my lap, squeezing them together to keep them from shaking.

What was wrong with me?

I just witnessed…well, I’m not sure what I even witnessed, but it was going to be hard for me to come to terms with it without a therapist, and yet, here I was acting like a sixteen-year-old girl with a crush. This man just  _ murdered _ someone in front of me and yeah, they provoked the attack by following us and ramming into the car, but now they were dead. And Mr. De Santa had killed them. Well, one at least for sure. Death hadn’t seemed too far off for the other one.

And the scariest part was that it was quite clear that this was not the first time he had killed someone. In fact, from the moment he realized what had been happening, it was like he had turned into someone else entirely, an actor going through the motions of a scene. Ram car, force a wreck, shoot bad guys, flee.

Nervously, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, checking him over for wounds or any evidence that this was traumatizing for him as well. But, his hands were steady on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the drive up to my parent’s house. Just another drive, another errand to run.

That familiar electric shiver rolled through my body and my legs squeezed together involuntarily. If I had been wearing panties, they would be soaked through right about now. And, not because I would have pissed myself. I was actually turned on by this. Not by the murder that had just taken place before my very eyes but by the man who had did it. This cold-blooded killer who had enough sense to calm me down during a panic attack after he had  _ shot _ someone.

What the fuck did this mean? Was I messed up for being aroused by him?

The houses started becoming familiar and I knew that within ten minutes, he would be pulling into the gate of my parent’s house. It didn’t matter that it was so late. They weren’t home anyway and wouldn’t be home for another week or so. Unless they decided to jet off to France or Rome or something. It wouldn’t be too surprising. Their absence was one of the main reasons I didn’t feel the need to get a place of my own.

But, as many perks as living in your parent’s mansion had, there were quite a few downfalls as well. One being, the loneliness. A big, empty house was only good if you had someone else to enjoy it with.

As he took a left and pulled the car into the cul-de-sac neighborhood, I let out a sigh. My bed was calling my name, but after tonight, I didn’t see much sleep in my future. Not any sleep worth a damn, anyway. Mr. De Santa gave a low whistle as he stopped the car outside the gate that separated the house from the road. The wall surrounding it was lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and wrought iron. “Jesus, sometimes I forget your parents are fucking loaded.”

“It’s hard to forget when their money is the favorite child.” Before he could say anything, I unbuckled the seat belt and opened the car door. “Let me open the gate.” I stepped out, keeping my skirt tugged as far as the material would stretch to keep him from seeing my bare ass. I hurried to the button pad next to the locked gate. With a quick push into the 7-2-8-7 keys, the gate buzzed, unlocked and swung open slowly.

There was no point in Mr. De Santa driving into the gate, especially since my house was a fortress anyway. If there were any robbers waiting for me, the police would have been alerted long ago. I turned to tell him goodnight but stopped short, my eyes moving to a spot on his left shoulder. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped, and blood had seeped out onto his bicep.

“Oh, my god!” I hurried back to the car, gripping the window frame. “You were shot!”

“Ah,” he said, holding his arm to look at the wound. “Yeah. It’s not too bad.”

“But, you’re bleeding! At least come in and let me look at it.” I didn’t wait for him to tell me he was fine, it was just a scratch, and didn’t need to be looked at bull shit. I pulled the handle of the door and opened it, giving him a stern look. After a sigh, he turned the car off and stepped out of the car, holding his hands out in a ‘you happy?’ kind of gesture.

Closing the gate behind us, I hurried up to the front steps of the house, once again entering a different code to unlock the doors. At my side, Mr. De Santa scoffed at the lengths my father went to keep his house secure. “I’d hate to be drunk, trying to get into your house.”

I brushed my hair over my shoulder and glanced back at him with my eyebrow arched. “Why would you be trying to get into my house?”

The look of surprise on his face lasted only a second, but it was priceless. He stammered, the tops of his cheeks turning a shade of pink that I had never seen on him before. It was adorable how easily it was to make him blush. “I’m kidding, Mr. De Santa.” The lock clicked open and I twisted the knob, leading the way into the foyer.

“Enough with the Mr. De Santa shit.” He stepped inside and looked up at the garish, crystal chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling. My mother had put it in several years ago and it was as ugly as it was expensive. Directly across the foyer from the door was a staircase leading up to the second floor and around the banister were the ribbons left over from my father’s birthday party that they had thrown almost a month ago. Apparently, when they went out of the country, they didn’t feel the need to pay the maids and I sure as shit wasn’t about to clean up the mess from a party I was excluded from.

Ignoring the ribbons and a lonely, helium balloon that was floating miserably around the second-floor balcony, I lead Mr. De Santa past the staircase into the kitchen. The lights came on automatically and once again, he paused to look around. “Remind me never to bring Amanda here. She’d demand me pay for a remodel of the house to look just like this.”

I paused, my hand gripping the drawer handle where I had last seen our first aid kid. At the risk of being too bold, I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “Does she demand a lot from you?” It was not my business in the slightest, but I had been curious for a while now. They fought constantly and from what I had heard from Tracey, neither of them was very faithful to the other. What was the point of marriage? In today’s world, divorce was as common as getting married or knocked up. There was no stigma around it which made their situation all the more curious.

“Ah, she’s just high maintenance.” He leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen as he absentmindedly grabbed for something with his injured arm.

Despite the urge to press him for more info, I pulled open the drawer and found the clear box in the back. There was a thick, red cross on the front and the plastic still covered it from the store. I peeled it off and set it on the island next to him.

“I’ll need you to take your shirt off.” He sighed, and I could sense his hesitation, making me look up at him. “Mr. De Santa, I can’t help you if you don’t take your—”

“Alright, alright!” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up his chest, taking extra care around his wounded shoulder. “Just call me Michael, already. That shit’s getting annoying.”

“ _ Fine _ . Thank you, Michael.”

“Thank  _ you _ .”

I took the shirt from him and set it in one of the stools under the island bar, not caring if blood seeped out on the cushion. More than likely, my parents would barely notice it when they came home, thinking one of the maids neglected to clean the stain. Thinking of my parents never failed to make me frown and I pursed my lips as I opened the box and turned toward Michael (which still felt incredibly weird to say).

The wound didn’t look too bad. I could tell the bullet grazed him, barely missing the muscle tissue. But, it had managed to pierce right through his tattoo that said ‘Mandy’. Maybe that’s what was keeping him from getting a divorce. Tattoos were for life, after all. I slipped on a pair of gloves as he watched me dig through the kit for an antiseptic wipe, gauze and bandages. “You, uh,” he cleared his throat. “You know what you’re doing?”

“If you’re asking if I’m skilled in treating bullet wounds,” I started, looking up at him through my lashes. “Then no. But, I briefly wanted to major in medicine and I took a few first aid courses.” I reached for the faucet of the sink and ran a steady stream of warm water, stepping around him. “Try to lean down so I can wash it.”

It was hard not letting my eyes look at him. As much as I was dying to ogle him, I somehow managed to keep my composure. As he leaned toward the sink, I scooped water in my gloved hand and poured it over the wound. He barely reacted at all; another indication that this wasn’t his first rodeo. I swallowed the question I was dying to ask, but my mind refused to keep it down. If I couldn’t stare at his chest, then I was going to ask him what I was most curious about. “So,” I started, my pulse raising again as I finished washing the gash. “How many times have you been shot at in your life?”

His eyes met mine and the look behind them made me freeze. My entire body tensed as if it were bracing itself for something. But, his gaze softened just a bit. It still held more anger and pain than I had been expecting but he no longer looked as if he wanted to bolt out the door. “You want a ballpark estimate?”

“It’s enough for a ballpark estimate?” I wiped the antiseptic wipe around the edges of the wound, cleaning off the dried blood and fuzz from his T-shirt.

Michael sighed and turned away from me. The tightness in his jaw was something I couldn’t ignore. He clearly did not want to talk about this, or talk about it with  _ me _ at least. “Let’s just say, I’ve been shot at more than once and I’ve shot at people more than once.”

I bit my lower lip, wishing that would satisfy my burning curiosity. Once the wound was relatively clean, I tossed the wipe and tried to calm the swirling thoughts through my head. What was he? An ex-cop, ex-spy? Was he a mafia crime lord? That seemed ridiculous. This man had always been the same. He loved old movies, loved cigars and whiskey, and had never so much as given me any reason to believe he was this hardened killer that I saw tonight. I didn’t know which man I was more attractive to.

Sure, my sixteen-year-old-self had loved sneaking peeks at him as he cleaned the pool with his shirt off during the summer and I had tried to impress him with my accomplishments at school. But, he had just been Tracey’s dad all those years. Now…he was someone else. He was dangerous and scary and I still had no panties on.

The realization made my face flush hot and I nearly dropped the strip of gauze in my hand. I blinked and focused on bandaging his wound and  _ not _ on these new-found feelings for someone twice my age. Or for someone who was capable of killing me very easily. I covered the gash with the gauze and grabbed the tape from the first aid kit, stretching it out against his arm. “Okay, all done.”

“Will I live, Doc?”

He grabbed the shirt from the stool beside him and flashed me a smile that I felt from the top of my head down to the tip of my toes. I had no idea what had come over me. It was like I was watching me from outside my body. Someone else was controlling my arms as I reached up and clutched his shirt, keeping him from slipping it back over his head. For a moment, his eyes narrowed in confusion, glancing to my hand and then back up to my face.

The air between us sparked with tension and I knew he could feel it too. I didn’t know if it was the near-death experience I had been through, or my hormones, or the fact that we were both halfway naked already, but my desire for him had grown so much I couldn’t stand it. It was a burning ache inside me and it pushed me forward a step. My hands were on his chest, tracing the tattoo over his heart before falling over the ridges of his ribs.

He dropped the shirt, reaching for me before it even hit the floor. His hands took hold of either side of my hips and he pulled me against him. We only had a second or two to stop this, a brief moment where we were both caught in the confusion of desire. Neither of us stopped it. I stepped up on my tiptoes as he bent his head down, our lips meeting in the middle.

I had never been kissed like this. It wasn’t like the ones I was used to from barely experienced guys who think foreplay is getting the girl drunk enough to sleep with them. He took his time, kissing me from different angles and tasting me. I reached for the island behind me, using the counter to push myself onto it and he stepped between my thighs, never breaking the kiss.

There were no thoughts in my head, no warning sounds or alarms telling me this was wrong. All I could think about was where to put my hands next and how badly I wanted him inside me. His hands pulled the fabric of my dress up around my hips before exploring my body. He found my bare ass and groaned against my lips, pressing harder against me.

The stubble across his chin was rough to my face but the pain only made me want more. I pawed at his chest, trying to slip my hands between us to reach his belt. Just as my fingertips touched the cool metal buckle, he lifted me from the countertop and broke our kiss. “Bedroom,” he said breathlessly, carrying me back to the foyer at the front of the house.

From the time it took for him to make it back under that god-awful chandelier, I had managed to remember that my bedroom was on the second floor. I didn’t want to wait that long. Shaking my head, I wiggled out of his grip and as soon as my feet touched the floor, I pulled him into the formal living room that my mother had spent nearly a hundred grand to decorate.

There were two couches in the room that I was pretty sure no one had ever sat on. Tonight, I was going to change that. I spun on my heel and shoved him down on the love seat, climbing onto his lap. His fingers hooked around the straps of my dress and I wiggled free from it, letting the material fall to my waist. As much as I wanted to continue my plan to unbuckle his belt, his mouth found my nipple and I took a moment to let him savor it. His tongue swirled over the hardened bud and he sucked the flesh, kneading the other in his fist.

_ Fuck _ ! I couldn’t take it. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me.

I pushed my hands between our chests and found his belt once again, my fingers working it faster than I ever had before. With his mouth still teasing my nipples, he managed to lift off the couch and work his jeans down. I pushed his boxers to his thighs and gripped his cock between my legs. It was thick and so fucking hard.

Michael let his head fall back against the couch as I hovered over the tip of his cock, my lips parted and breath fast. He took hold of my hips and guided me down over him. With each inch he pushed inside me, his fingers gripped me tighter and tighter. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so wet.”

I didn’t want to tell him that I had been wet all night, since the moment he had touched my knee outside of his house. It was hard to focus on saying anything. I was too busy enjoying the feel of him deep inside me. Whether he was ready to or not, I didn’t care. I moved my hips, rolling them back and forth over his. I gripped his shoulders, careful not to tear the bandages from his wound and rocked into him. His hands on my hips guided me, digging so hard into the flesh of my ass that I was sure I would be bruised in the morning.

He lifted his head and found my breasts again, his teeth biting gently around my nipple. The sharp sting of his teeth followed by a lap of his tongue drove me crazy. I bucked my hips, needing his cock deeper inside me. Apparently, it’s what he needed too.

His mouth left me before he pushed me toward the couch. He rolled me onto my back and pulled my legs apart as wide as they would go, holding them tightly. My eyes rolled into my head at the feel of his cock plunging back inside me. This new position allowed him to go even deeper and I gasped. “You want me to fuck you, Lilah?”

I nodded helplessly, and he pulled back only to slam into me again. My mouth opened in a silent cry and I wanted to beg him to fuck me faster, harder, deeper but I couldn’t say a word. I reached for him and he snatched my wrists again, holding them over my head with one hand as he kept the other on my thigh. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Please,” I whimpered, my body trembling.

“Please, what?”

God, he was enjoying this. His cock slid in and out of me ever so slow, teasing me with just enough to make me crave more. “Please, fuck me. Fuck me  _ hard _ ,” my voice was a whisper. I didn’t have the strength for anything more than that.

Michael released my wrists and took hold of my thighs again, using his grip to keep me pinned against the couch. I thought I had wanted it harder, but I was obviously naïve. He did as I had begged him to though and fucked me hard. From this angle, I could feel every inch of him pounding into me, stretching me with each thrust. I grabbed the arm of the couch behind my head with both hands, whimpering.

Somehow, in the heat of the moment, his wound had re-opened and blood dripped down his bicep and into the bend of his elbow. It was an instant reminder that he wasn’t the man I had crushed on during my teenage years. He was that killer, that dangerous stranger who had murdered someone in front of me. He wasn’t Mr. De Santa. He was Michael and if he kept fucking me like this, I was going to come.

I could feel the orgasm building inside me, growing more and more with each thrust of his cock inside me. I let my head fall back against the cushions, my body jerking from the force of his movements. Every inch of my thighs would be bruised and sore tomorrow, I was certain of it. But, I loved how tightly he gripped them between his hands. I reached for my breasts, digging my fingers into the flesh and adding a bit of pain to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered, looking down my body to see his cock pounding into me. His breaths came out fast and shallow and I knew he was close as well. There was no stopping it, now. A strangled cry filled my throat as I came. My entire body tensed and trembled, each thrust matching the waves of my orgasm. I could feel my toes curling in my shoes.

“That’s it. Come for me like a good girl.”

I pushed my hands into my hair and stared up at the ceiling, panting through the last waves rolling through me. Michael’s hips pounded harder against mine, his movements growing erratic and I knew he was about to come. I could feel his cock twitch, ready for the release he was working for. As he pulled completely out of me, I gasped and watched him come across my stomach. He let his head fall back, groaning with each stroke of his hand.

There wasn’t an ounce of energy left inside my body. If he didn’t have a hold of my legs, I was sure I would have spilled out into the floor in a puddle. He lifted my leg to his shoulder and pressed soft kisses to the inside of my calf. It sent tingling sensations shooting across my body and I hid a giggle behind my forearm. It was odd, how everything looked so bright and clear in the afterglow.

But, once it started to fade, I could see the edges of reality come back into focus. And once again, I saw myself from out of my body. I laid on my mother’s eight-thousand-dollar sofa, legs spread with my best friend’s  _ father’s _ cum on my stomach. The astral projection of myself was screaming, demanding to know what the  _ fuck _ I had been thinking. I ignored it and sat up on my elbows, looking up at Mr. De Santa (was he back to that now in my mind?) as he sat back on the couch and reached for his jeans, pulling them up around his waist.

I hoped he couldn’t see the fear in my eyes but, I wasn’t sure I knew how to hide it. This was something extremely fucked up that we had just did. I fucked my best friend’s father who was married! Despite every fiber of my being wanting nothing more than to run up to my room and lock the door, I sat up on the couch and pulled my dress up around my chest, slipping my arms back through the straps. “Mr. De—”

“Hey,” he cut me off as he buttoned his jeans. “Don’t do that. You can’t go back to calling me that, now.”

_ Now _ . Now that we fucked. Now that I had seen him kill someone, now that he had been inside me. I could feel another panic attack threatening to appear and I concentrated on breathing slow and deep as I had in his car. I settled for nodding, unsure of what else to do. He was no longer Mr. De Santa, no longer that man who would drive me home after school or take Tracey and I to get ice cream during our sleepovers.

Fuck, how was I going to look Tracey in the eyes after this?

“You okay?”

“What?” I frowned and looked up at him. He reached over and took my face in his hands, tilting my head back so he could kiss my forehead.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie. I was alright. He hadn’t hurt me, and it wasn’t like I was going to throw myself off the roof or anything. I was just exhausted and confused and still feeling the grips of panic in my mind. But, I was alright. I would be, anyway.

I pulled my dress around my hips and winced at the feel of it already sticking to my skin. There was definitely a shower in my immediate future. It took us a moment of searching around the couch to remember that his shirt was still in the kitchen and he disappeared around the corner to retrieve it. In his absence, I looked back at the couch and hoped nothing had spilled out on the bright, white fabric. I didn’t know how many mysterious stains I could blame on the maids when my mother returned.

Michael came back around the corner, his shirt on and a small smile on his face. He had wiped up the blood that had rolled down his arm during our activities and he held up a roll of gauze. “Mind if I take some of this?”

“You know how to put it on?” I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

“I do, actually. This ain’t the first time I’ve been shot at, remember?”

So, if that were true, did that mean he hadn’t needed my help bandaging it? Sure, I didn’t let him put up much of a fight, but he didn’t exactly try to. Maybe he knew something like this would happen. But, I wasn’t sure if that meant he thought I would be an easy lay…or if he had wanted something to happen. The thought made my stomach clench and I took a step toward him, tilting my head to the side as I studied his face. “Who are you, Michael?”

“I think that’ll have to be a conversation for another day.” His voice was quiet, but it rang loud in my ears. I closed my eyes as he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to my temple, his hand resting on my side. “Goodnight, Lilah.”

* * *

  
 


	3. Guilt Makes You Do Stupid Things

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It had been nine days since Michael had stood in the foyer of my parent’s house, kissing me on the temple before telling me goodnight. Nine days since I had seen him or Tracey. Though, I didn’t want to admit it, I was avoiding them both. After she had got shit-faced which in turn resulted in the two of us being thrown out of a party last Friday, I was keeping my distance from my best friend.

It wasn’t like I was mad at her. I just couldn’t live that lifestyle on the regular like her. Partying with Tracey was fun, but I had more excitement than I had been ready for that night. More excitement than I would ever admit to her, that was for sure. She was used to me being like this though. I would beg her to show me a good night and it would satisfy me for a month or so. A nine-day absence after a night out wasn’t abnormal.

I just didn’t know how long I would be able to stretch it out. Usually by now, she would be trying to have lunch somewhere or meet up for a movie. And this time was no different. I had avoided two of her texts so far, brushing her off with the usual ‘Oh, I have so much work to do’ excuse. In reality, I had skipped class two days last week and could barely concentrate long enough to even  _ think _ about school. My mind was so preoccupied with someone that should not be on my mind at all that I was having trouble just walking through my living room without him popping in my head.

Of course, I avoided the formal living as often as I could. But, each time I walked through the front door of my father’s enormous, empty house, my eyes would immediately cut to the left and I could see the couch and loveseat where I had fucked my best friend’s dad. Ugh! No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t  _ not _ think about it. Even over a week later, my thighs were still tender to the touch (God, they had been so sore the morning after) and I could still hear the words he had said to me.

I dropped my head onto my desk and banged my forehead against it a few times, wishing I could beat the memories out of my mind. The assignment I had been struggling to concentrate on for the past two hours would just have to wait until I could focus better. I needed a break, from school work and my thoughts. With a heavy sigh, I dumped my books into my back pack and turned to where my cellphone sat on my bed. I knew I had an unread message from Tracey she had sent me nearly an hour ago, but I didn’t think messaging her would get my mind off of Michael.

Sighing, I stood from my desk and sat on the corner of the bed, reaching for my phone. It turned out, she had messaged me two more times since the first and I frowned. She was rarely a multi-texter. The only times she resorted to that was for something urgent, or something she really, really wanted. I opened the messages and scrolled through the ones I had ignored.

Trace: Call me ASAP

Trace: Like for real?

These two had my heart absolutely racing. Could she have found out about what had happened last Friday night? No, that was impossible unless Michael had told someone. And I highly doubted that was possible. I scrolled down to the next message she had sent.

Trace: Ok, like, I need your help! Can you just call me? It’ll be a huge huge favor and I’ll owe you big time but please! Call me

This one didn’t ease my worry very much and I chewed my lower lip as I quickly maneuvered through the phone to my contact list. I found her name and pressed my thumb to it, immediately putting the device to my ear. She answered on the second ring.

“Oh my god!  _ Finally _ ,” she groaned. “I was starting to think you were mad at me or something.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” My laugh was a nervous one and I hoped she wouldn’t pick up on how awkward I sounded. I picked at a loose string on the comforter beneath me and cleared my throat. “I just got your texts. What’s up?”

“Can you come by? It’s easier to explain in person and besides,” she brought her mouth closer to the phone and I could tell she was cupping her hands around it to keep from being overheard. “Shit has hit the fan over here and I don’t need to poke the bear, if you get what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I did. There could be only one explanation behind what she was saying. Her parents were in another feud, which means she couldn’t ask either of them for the favor she was going to ask me. The realization that they could be fighting because of  _ me _ made my stomach feel as heavy as a stone. It wasn’t until we hung up the call that the realization hit that I was about to walk into an argument that could possibly be about me. This made that heavy stone in my gut sink right to the floor.

God, what if Amanda knew.

Would Michael even be able to stop her from attacking me? I knew she would. Who wouldn’t? I had fucked her husband and would be in her home, flaunting his indiscretion under her nose. I had never been in a fight before. What would I even do? Would defending myself even be justified?

The thoughts plagued me as I made my way to the detached garage and slipped into my car. With each mile I drove, the urge to vomit increased and by the time I pulled onto Portola Drive and could see the roof of their Spanish style home, I knew I would have to throw up before I reached the front door. I parked the car on the street and blasted the AC directly on my face, hoping it would help ease the nausea.

Once my cheeks were nearly frozen, I let myself turn and peek up at the house through the iron bars of the gate. This may have just all been in my head. There was a huge possibility that Michael wasn’t even at home. It wasn’t rare that he disappeared during the day, and there were times that I stayed an entire weekend and never saw him once. Hopefully, this was one of those times.

With shaking fingers, I pulled the door handle and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The smell of freshly cut grass hit my nose and did little to help my upset stomach. I could hear their gardener using the leaf blower on the other side of the wall. At least there would be a witness for when Mrs. De Santa beat the ever-loving shit out of me.

I took a deep breath and pushed through the gate, glancing to the man in a khaki uniform blowing lawn clippings away from the perfectly manicured shrubs along the wall. He lifted a hand and waved absentmindedly to me as I slowly made my way up the brick driveway. Okay, this wasn’t so bad. No angry housewife had come bursting out the front door, ready to stab me with one of her high heel shoes. Maybe the shit that had hit the fan wasn’t about me after all.

The gardener silenced the leaf blower and my hopes were dashed against the front steps of the De Santa household. I could hear the screaming almost immediately and it made me stop dead in my tracks. My stomach dropped and I had to fight the urge to throw up in the grass. Surely, if Michael had spilled the beans about us, Tracey would have heard and she wouldn’t have wanted me to come by…unless she wanted to trap me here.

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ! I could either keep going into the house, hold my head up and deny  _ everything _ , or turn on my heel and run back home, delete Tracey’s number and never step foot in Rockford Hills again. I was just about to choose the latter option when I heard one little snippet of their argument.

“Where did you get the drugs from, Jimmy?” Mrs. De Santa shouted from very close to the front door and I breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, God. It was just Jimmy and his usual stupidity.

My hands were still quivering as I reached for the front door and turned the handle to poke my head inside. I could see Jimmy on the stairs, his hands out in a shrug with Amanda at the bottom of the step. Michael was above him on the second-floor landing, tossing various drug paraphernalia off the edge of the bannister. A particularly large bong hit the floor below the stairs and shattered. “Not on my floors, Michael!” Amanda screamed.

“You smoke weed as much as I do, you fucking hypocrite!” Jimmy tried to grab a bag of weed from his dad, but he was too slow.

Michael laughed though there was no humor behind it. “I smoke once a month,  _ maybe _ ! I ain’t on the fucking streets selling it and getting arrested for it!”

Oh, Jesus. Another member of the De Santa family was arrested? Why am I even surprised? I felt incredibly awkward poking my head into the argument and knew it was probably best to text Tracey and tell her to meet me in the car. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to shut the door.

My best friend emerged from her bedroom and popped up next to her father on the second-floor landing, waving at me. “Oh, Lilah! Come on up!” She grinned, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong at all. Of course, she was probably getting her fill of enjoyment from watching Jimmy facing the consequences of his stupidity.

The three other De Santa family members turned and looked at me, each with different expressions. Amanda’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips, clearly pissed that this little family moment had an audience. Her son rolled his eyes and turned to Tracey. “You bitch! You just had to call your little friend to gloat about my misery!” He thrust his middle finger up the stairs to his sister and Michael swiped it away.

It was the look on his face, though that surprised me the most. I had assumed the next time I saw him, I would be far too nervous to even meet his eyes. There was no way it wouldn’t be awkward. We had fucked, he had came on my stomach and made me beg for it all. Yet, the feeling inside me when he looked at me was anything but nauseous. Butterflies fluttered against the walls of my stomach and I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my lips. Thank God Tracey was standing next to him and assumed I was grinning up at her. She motioned for me to come upstairs and I stepped inside the house, shutting the door behind me.

Amanda mumbled something about getting the broom to clean up the mess as Jimmy trailed after her, asking if he was grounded or not. As they hurried through the foyer, I gave them a wide berth and stepped up the stairs. Tracey spun on her heel and hurried back to her bedroom, leaving me alone with Michael who was still holding a large bag of marijuana and a baggie full of pills. He sighed and dropped his hands to his side in defeat. “Apparently, Tracey’s the only one in this house that hasn’t ever been in the back of a police car.”

The corner of my lips lifted as I met him at the middle of the stairs. “Did you end up in the back of a police car after one of your many shoot outs?” I kept my voice low and he smiled at my words.

“Maybe one day, I’ll tell you all about it over a drink.”

God, his smell was everywhere all of a sudden. It was even better than I remembered, and it immediately flooded my head with memories of our night. I took in a deep breath as he passed by me on the stairs. I turned and walked backwards up a step as he kept his eyes on me. It was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn’t help myself. With a smile I never used, except for when I was full of confidence from alcohol and in the mood to flirt, I gave him a wink. “Promise?”

The way his eyes moved slowly down my body, pausing first on my chest and then on the length of my legs, made a shiver cover my flesh. I wondered if he was thinking about how I had looked the last time he saw me, naked and spread out on the couch. He made a noise in the back of his throat, a small moan that instantly turned me on, and gave me a wink of his own. “Promise.”

From beneath the stairway, Amanda and Jimmy emerged with a broom and dust pan. I spun on my heel and hurried up to Tracey’s bedroom door before either of them could become suspicious of why I was smiling at Mr. De Santa the way I was. It was hard to wipe it off my face as I made my way to Tracey’s room. She had music playing and was ushering me inside before I had even stepped past the threshold. With a finger to her lips, she pulled me to the bed and cranked the volume up on her speakers.

“I need you to do me a favor!” She shouted over the music, making me frown.

“What kind of favor?”

“Okay, there’s this guy—” Oh, god. Of course, there was. “and he’s wanting to buy some drugs.” Jesus.

“Okay, what’s stopping him?” I narrowed my eyes on the speaker. The music was a bit much. It wasn’t like this family was some sort of uber-religious, never stray too far from the given path, family. None of the members apparently gave much regard for the law. Surely, knowing Tracey was dating a guy who bought drugs wouldn’t be too much of a shock for them.

“He has a few warrants out and doesn’t want to risk getting caught.”

Yeah, I didn’t like where this was going.

“What’s the favor, Trace?”

Her bottom lip poked out a bit and I knew she probably had a whole spiel about why I should help her and how it would benefit me, but I wasn’t in the mood. I honestly just wanted to get this over with so we could come back to her house and hang out. And if I just happen to spend more time with her dad than her, well, that was alright with me.

I wondered how I could be alone with him again. It was a bit funny how I had been so terrified not even fifteen minutes ago and now I was just anxious and a little turned on.

“I need you to be the one to buy the drugs.”

Her words cut through my thoughts and I stared at her, blinking in confusion. Surely, I hadn’t heard her right. She needed _me_ to buy drugs for a guy she was sleeping with? I scoffed and shook my head, not sure where to even begin to refuse. “Why do I need to be the one to do it?”

“Because I only know one drug dealer now that Jimmy was stupid enough to get arrested—”

“This is LS. Walk into any club and you can find a dealer before you even make it to the bar.”

“—and the only dealer I know, won’t sell to me. He knows me, and he would rat me out for sure. Plus, he kind of freaks me out a bit.” She wrinkled her nose and that strange, worried feeling returned to my stomach. It was a lot like the feeling I had before I walked out the door with no panties on last Friday night, like my body was telling me that this was not a good idea and I should probably back out.

“Who is it?”

* * *

 

I stared at the neon lights of the strip club through the windshield of my car, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I pulled into a parking spot. There were only a few cars beside my own, but a taxi was stopped by the door, waiting for the bouncer to throw a drunk and disgruntled customer into the back. The pink neon sign spelling ‘Horny Girls’ flickered across the front of the cab and I wrinkled my nose. “Why are we at the strip club?”

“Because,” Tracey said from the passenger’s seat. “Trevor owns this club. Now, when you get in there, just tell the woman at the check-in that you need to speak to the manager.”

I wanted to remind her that I knew how to function in society by doing basic tasks, but my nerves were too frazzled for me to think up a proper sarcastic comment at the moment. I chewed at the inside of my lower lip and watched the cab pull away from the front of the club. Two men came out the front door and lit cigarettes as they talked with the bouncer. Great, more people to have to walk in front of to get inside.

Why had I agreed to this ridiculous scheme?

Oh, right…My guilt was eating at me and even though she had no idea I had fucked her dad and wanted to do it again, I knew. For some fucked up reason, I felt like this would even us out. I fucked her dad, so I bought the guy she wanted to sleep with some meth. Those were pretty even, right? I rolled my eyes and unbuckled my seat belt, turning to her. “Cash,” I looked pointedly at the palm of my hand held out for her.

She dipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a roll of bills secured with a rubber band. It looked about as shady as money could look and I nervously tucked it into the pocket of my hoodie. “We need a code word, in case this goes bad.” God, I hoped it wouldn’t.

“That’s a good idea! How about…condom.”

I stared at her. “Condom is our safe word?”

“Yeah, just text me the word condom if you think you need me to come in and I’ll come to your rescue. Or call the police.” She shrugged. Her response gave me no assurance at all.

“Tracey, no matter what I text you, don’t call the police. I’m buying drugs, remember? I’d rather be kidnapped by this guy than be arrested with a bag of meth in my pocket.” Did it even come in bags? How was I supposed to know? I had never even smoked weed before. I was about as clueless about drugs as I was about guns.

The memory of Michael pointing a gun at the man who had attacked us flashed before my mind and I bit my lip at the sudden rush of heat licking my insides. I had tried to put that image under the rug in my mind these past few days, but it was clear that my body was digging it back up after my brief little conversation with him on the stairs. I took a deep breath, needing my head to be focused and free of the memories that turned me on so badly I could hardly stand it. “Okay. I’m going in.” I didn’t wait for her to answer, stepping out of the car.

I tried to channel all that cool, calm, and collected badassery that I had seen Michael exude but it was harder than I thought. Maybe if I had a gun, I would feel a bit more confident. Or, I’d get shot for carrying a deadly weapon into a strip club. I rolled my eyes at myself and shook the thoughts from my head. What I needed to focus on was getting inside and finding this Trevor guy.

At the door to the club, the bouncer looked at me from over the heads of the other two men speaking to him. He narrowed his eyes on me, clearly not used to seeing women walking through the doors. My steps slowed as I made my way onto the faded, black carpet. Shoe prints and stains marred the fabric beneath my feet and I wondered if I needed to wipe my shoes off on the rug. I mean, this place couldn’t be  _ that _ fancy if I was buying drugs from the owner.

I decided not to wipe my feet and pushed the door open, ignoring the hushed whispers from the three men as I passed. Upon entering, I was met with another bright, blinding neon sign displaying ‘Vanilla Unicorn’ on the cement block wall. To my left was a small window with a short haired woman sitting behind a shelf. She didn’t offer a smile to me. In fact, she didn’t even lift her gaze from the cellphone she was staring at.

I cleared my throat and laid my hands on the counter, still not getting her attention. “Excuse me,” my voice was barely heard over the emcee announcing a dancer named Nikki who was taking the stage. Thankfully, the girl looked up at me anyway and sighed. She didn’t ask if I needed help, only stared at me like I was bothering her.

“I’m looking for a…” My mind blanked on the guy’s name. Fuck! “I’m looking for the manager.”

“Go past the premium lounge, last door on the right.” She had barely finished the sentence before pulling her phone back out. I would be getting no more help from her and I rolled my eyes, turning toward the club. The music pounded, and I could feel the bass vibrating the floor beneath the soles of my tennis shoes. Rounding the corner, I immediately spotted a bar lit up with a purple light. There was an enormous fish tank at the far end and little tables set up in a dining area.

Down a few steps was the main club. A stage was set up in the center of the room, with a pole right in the middle and a topless woman twirling around it. I stared at her as she moved to the music, unable to keep my eyes from drifting to the length of her legs. Her boots reached past her knees and made her seem over 6 foot tall. Some of the guys standing at the rail tossed wads of cash to the floor at her feet and she moved their way, paying them extra attention.

“Alright, alright!” The emcee called into the sound system, breaking me from my trance. “Let’s show Miss Nikki some love and welcome our next dancer to the stage…”

I turned away from the main area and spotted the premium lounge that I had been instructed to go through. The doorway was blocked by two, thick red curtains. A half-naked woman emerged from behind the curtain, pausing to give the bouncer at the door a quick wink before she sauntered past me and down into the seating area. The man standing at the door, holding his hands in front of him, glanced to me and raised an eyebrow, much like the one out front had done. I cleared my throat and made my way through the curtains, expecting to be questioned.

When I wasn’t, I moved into the next hallway and slowly moved through the back of the strip club. There were lockers to the left and a section of the room set up with a vanity table and mirror framed with huge, bright light bulbs. I glanced to the right and saw another door, the one that had to be the manager’s. My heart pounded as I took a step closer, my hands sweating. I wiped them on the front of my hoodie and checked my phone for any safe word texts. There was only one from Tracey, saying she was going to the gas station around the corner to get a drink. It had been sent four minutes ago.

I rolled my eyes, slipped the phone back into my pocket next to the bank roll, and pushed onward. Raising my hand, I gave a small, nervous knock on the door and waited. There wasn’t so much as a peep from inside the room. Was he even there? Surely, the chick at the front would have told me if he wasn’t. Then again, she didn’t seem too invested in her job. Pursing my lips, I knocked again, this time just a bit harder. Still no sounds from inside. I breathed a sigh of relief and reached for my phone to text Tracey and tell her to get her ass back to pick me up.

I never got a chance.

The door swung open and the sudden appearance of a man standing on the other side, glaring down at me startled me. Immediately, his name popped back into my head and I could hear Tracey's voice in my mind saying,  _ Trevor Phillips. _ I froze, my mouth hanging open like a gaping fish as he looked me up and down. “You the new girl?” He asked, a bit of doubt in his tone. Should I be offended that he sounded surprised that I could be a new stripper?

“I—uhm, _no_. Are you the manager?”

“Yeah, who’s asking?” He folded his arms over his chest and shifted on his feet. I didn’t know how he could look twice as intimidating, but he accomplished that well. It could have had something to do with the fact that he was two steps higher than I was, though I’m sure it was mostly the fact that he was a criminal drug dealer.

“I’m asking,” I said after a minute of trying to regain the ability to speak.

“I get that,” he rolled his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Lilah. I was told I could buy some,” I paused and looked around, making sure no one else had snuck up behind me in the narrow hallway. Once I was sure we were alone, I looked up at him once more. “Meth.”

“You think I sell methamphetamines?”

Oh, fuck. I offended him. Jesus, I hadn’t even made sure this was the guy I was supposed to be talking to in the first place. What if he was the co-manager and I had seriously offended him by assuming he was a drug dealer? As I stammered, a slow, wicked grin spread across the man’s face. Oh. He was fucking with me. I let out a nervous laugh as he took a step back and gestured toward his office.

“No offense,” he started as I walked past him into the room. “But, you don’t look like my usual clientele. That might be a compliment, though. Most of my customers are usually missing a few teeth.” I immediately thought of the guy Michael had shot in the chest. I tried not to dwell on how strange that would be for him to have been one of Trevor’s customers. Instead, I focused on the room around me, taking in the god-awful wallpaper on the back wall and the strange smell permeating the air. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell…just bizarre.

The sound of the door shutting behind us startled me and I whirled around to face Trevor Phillips. Or, who I was assuming was Trevor Phillips. We hadn’t been properly introduced yet. He nodded toward the ratty, brown couch pushed against the wall. “Please, have a seat.” He leaned against his desk and folded his arms over his chest as I backed up toward the couch.

I couldn’t be too sure, but I was willing to bet some serious money that there were multiple bodily fluids on the couch. A rather large stain in the shape of an X marred one cushion so I moved to the next and lowered myself onto it, folding my hands in my lap.

“Now,” he started, staring hard at me. “Why do you want to buy meth?”

As he spoke, the cell phone in my hoodie pocket vibrated against my stomach and I tried not to let him see me react. My heart hammered hard in my chest and I prayed that whoever had texted me, they hadn’t sent the word ‘condom’. Something told me, I wasn’t that lucky. I had to speed this up. “To…smoke it?” God, I sounded so incredibly naïve. I wanted to kick myself in the ass.

“You don’t smoke meth,” his eyes narrowed on me in suspicion and I felt sweat start to bead up along the small of my back. Oh shit. I had no idea what to do with meth. I could have sworn I saw something on the news about a washed-up celeb caught smoking meth in the bathroom of a Burger Shot last week. Maybe I had heard it wrong. I opened my mouth and closed it, not sure what to say or why he was intimidating me so much. With just one look from him, I was freezing up. But, like earlier, he grinned and my shoulder’s visibly relaxed. “I’m just fucking with you. Why do you look so terrified?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, I can see that. So,  _ why _ do you want to smoke it? Not that I care, I’m just curious as to why someone like you would jump straight to meth without experiencing other vices in the wide world of drugs.” Someone like me? I wasn’t sure I knew what he meant by that. Everyone and their mother smoked something these days. Did I really look that innocent? I frowned and pressed my hand to my stomach as another text vibrated in my pocket.

“Uh, well, the meth is for a friend.” He nodded, as if he had guessed as much. “So, I guess I’m not really looking to dive head first into this whole drug thing.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow and pushed off the desk, crossing the room to a cabinet next to the couch. He threw open the door and rummaged around inside for a minute, pausing to poke his head around the door at me. “Ever try Oxy?”

I shook my head and he turned back to the cabinet. In the few seconds I figured I’d have without his attention on me, I grabbed the phone from my pocket just as it vibrated for a third time. The screen was covered in messages from Tracey. The first two had the words ‘CONDOM CONDOM! GET OUT OF THERE’, which immediately made my heart leap into the back of my throat. I jumped to my feet and opened the last message, staring at the words. No matter how many times I read them, they didn’t make sense in my head.

**Trace: I JUST SAW MY DAD! HES COMING INSIDE! WTF????**

“I think a little Oxy would do you a world of good,” Trevor said with his head ducked between two of the shelves of the cabinet. “It’ll really calm you down, since you seem a bit high strung.”

I was panicking, looking from Trevor bent over behind the cabinet to the door to his office. Could I make a run for it, hide among the clothes and sneak out without Michael seeing me? It was possible and my only option, unfortunately. I turned to tell the man behind me that I had second thoughts and had to go but the words never got a chance to leave my mouth.

“Yo, T! You back here?” A very familiar voice called from the other side of the door. I froze, staring with wide eyes as the next few seconds moved in slow motion before my eyes. Trevor stood up, holding a bag of pills in one hand and something that looked like crushed up cubes of sugar wrapped tightly in saran wrap in the other. He called out to Michael, his words not even sinking into my mind. I stared, my eyes wide and mouth open.

Just rush the door, knock him over and get the fuck out of here. That was what I should have done. I wasn’t that quick on my feet and as Trevor handed me two bags of drugs that I would never take, Michael stepped into the office. His eyes met mine and I could see the utter confusion smack across his face, stopping him in his tracks. And then he spotted the drugs and confusion gave way to absolute fury. The one look I never wanted to see on Michael De Santa’s face as he looked at me.

It terrified me more than seeing him kill a man.

“What the fuck?” As he slammed the door behind him and shouted the question at me, time returned to normal and I regained control of my body. Michael looked at Trevor, clearly at a loss for words. It didn’t stop him from shouting again though. “What the fuck are you doing here, Lilah? And why the  _ fuck _ are you giving her drugs?”

“She asked for them,” Trevor said with a shrug. He lifted one hand off the little bag of pills and pointed to the space between me and Michael. “How do you two know each other?”

“How the fuck do you know each other?”

“We don’t,” Trevor and I responded at the same time, glancing at one another. This time, I didn’t find his grin very charming. Not that I found the other ones charming either. Did I? I didn’t know anymore. “Just met tonight,” he finished for me.

Michael scrubbed a palm over his face and paced the floor in front of the door for a few seconds, trying to put these very odd pieces together in his mind. When he came to a stop, I realized he had figured  _ something  _ out by the way he turned to glare at me. Jesus, my own father couldn’t make me feel this awful. His face was the epitome of the whole ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ spiel. “Where’s Tracey?”

“She’s not with me.” I hoped I would go down as the greatest best friend after tonight.

“She left the house with you an hour ago.” Michael circled me like a predatory animal and I wanted to roll my eyes at my own stupidity. He had said goodbye to the both of us as we left his house earlier. Well, if I went down as anything tonight, it would be stupidest smart girl on the planet. At least I was something.

Trying to roll with it, I sniffed and shrugged a shoulder. I had to play it cool, even if that was the opposite of who I was. Besides, he wasn’t my dad. I didn’t have to do what he said. And if this plan failed, I could always try to cry my way out of it. God knew I felt like bursting into tears. “She dropped me off and went to a friend’s house.”

His eyes narrowed, and I knew he could smell my lie from a mile away. “Alright, then why are you buying drugs?” Good question. I decided to give him the same answer as I gave Trevor; they’re for a friend. He wasn’t buying this answer either. He nodded, folding his arms over his chest as he took a step back toward Trevor. With a glance down at the drugs still clutched in his hand, Michael rolled his eyes at him. “Put the drugs back. She’s not buying them from you.”

“Well, that’s not really your decision, Mikey. She’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions.” Trevor turned to me, raising his eyebrows. “What’ll it be, sweetheart? Meth, Oxy, both?”

“Neither,” I said, defeated. I had tried to be a good friend and that’s all that mattered, right? A for effort. It was clear that there would be no purchasing of narcotics tonight and hopefully, Tracey wouldn’t hold this over me if she ever found out about Michael and I. I would just need to work extra hard on keeping her from ever finding out our little secret.

Trevor shrugged, tossed the bags back into the cabinet and kicked it shut. He crossed the room and stood next to me. “Don’t let him bully you. It’s your God-given right to get as high as you want and if you ever do change your mind,” he paused, glaring at Michael as he presented a business card between his first two fingers. I took the card, but he didn’t let it go just yet. As he turned to look at me, his expression softened and lips stretched into a mischievous smile. “Give me a call.”

His fingers brushed mine as I took the card from him and if Michael hadn’t been standing right in front of me, staring daggers at me, I would have let myself smile at Trevor. Before I could, Michael took hold of my elbow and pulled me to the door. Any other time, I would have liked him taking control, but right now, I felt like a child being scolded. Once I realized he was guiding me to the door, I looked over my shoulder to see Trevor staring after us, his hands in his pockets. “I-It was nice to meet you.”

Out in the hallway, Michael shut the door behind us and spun me around to face him. “You mind giving me a better explanation than this vague ‘it’s for a friend’ bullshit?” As he looked down at me, I wondered how we had gone from naughty flirting two hours ago to him treating me like I was a kid. I didn’t know if I should be pissed or what. Was my anger warranted? Was  _ his _ ? Like Trevor had said, I was a big girl and could make my own decisions without some father figure stepping in to save the day.

I folded my arms over my chest and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. I hate that fucking look that all women seem to have ingrained in them from birth like  _ I’m _ the bad guy here.”

“Oh, I’m a woman now?” I snapped, quite sure that I was pissed now. “I’m never sure with you, Michael. One second you act like I’m grown, the next you’re treating me like a kid.” I pointed to the door of Trevor’s office, fairly certain he was listening to us from the other side.

“Don’t turn this around on me. You still haven’t told you what the hell you’re even doing here. This guy,” he nodded toward the office door, dropping his voice and I looked up at it. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to associate yourself with.”

“Actually, I did tell you what I’m doing here. You just don’t believe me. I’m not buying drugs for myself, or for Tracey. It’s for a guy she likes because he has warrants and doesn’t want to risk getting caught.” Okay, so I spilled the beans to him, exactly what I told Tracey I wouldn’t do. But, what was he going to do? Punish Tracey for doing nothing wrong? This was my decision. Sure, she asked me for the favor, but I didn’t have to do it.

Michael sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, looking at me with a shake of his head. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be pretty stupid sometimes.”

I felt like I had been slapped across the face by him. His words stung more than a slap ever could though. Blinking back the tears, I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head. His face softened and though I knew he immediately regretted saying it, I didn’t want to hear his half-assed apology. Nodding, I took a step away from him and tucked my hair behind my ear. “You’re right. But, I would have never agreed to do this stupid thing if I hadn’t felt guilty for fucking my best friend’s dad.”

From the club, the emcee’s voice boomed over the sound system to announce another dancer taking the stage and I turned on my heel, more than done with him, the conversation, and this whole night. I wanted nothing more than to get home and crawl into bed. Tears burned my eyes as I stormed out of the club, pushing past a group of drunk assholes who were celebrating a birthday or something. They called after me, using rather colorful names, but I was out the door before they could even try to stumble toward me.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket after a glance toward the parking lot. An empty space was where my car once had sat and I figured Tracey had bailed the moment she saw her dad. I opened the messages and blinked at the twelve unread texts from Tracey. Most of them were her repeatedly sending the word ‘condom’ and I rolled my eyes. The last one told me what I needed to know.

**Trace: I couldnt wait any longer so I took ur car back home.**  
Trace: Where are u?   
Trace: Answer me!

God damnit, I would  _not_   go back inside and ask Michael for a ride. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with him again. Besides, I was pretty sure he was giving Trevor an earful. I decided to call a cab instead. At least I had a pretty fat stack of cash in my pocket to pay for it. It may not be drugs, but I feel like my services still needed to be paid for. Tracey’s friend would just have to get over it.

* * *

 


	4. The Promise of Panties

* * *

 

 

AN- Yeah, this is just gratuitous smut :)

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* * *

 

 

By the time I got back to the De Santa household, I could see my car parked in the driveway beside Amanda’s cherry red Sedan. Unfortunately, the keys weren’t inside, which meant I would have to go into the house and get them back from Tracey. She may have been my best friend, but I didn’t really want to see her at that moment. Nor, did I want to see anyone else who lived in that house.

I was a little tired of the De Santa family and just wanted nothing more than the peace and quiet of my own home. Instead, what I walked into was Amanda walking down the stairs wearing a dress that looked more suitable to be on Tracey’s body instead of a middle-aged woman. She was pushing earrings into her ears when I stepped inside the foyer. “Hi, Lilah. Tracey’s upstairs.”

“Hey, you look nice.” It was the least I could do to compliment her. I hoped she didn’t notice how tense I was just by being in the same room as her. I cleared my throat as I waited for her to step off the stairs. She paused by a mirror hanging on the wall and checked her reflection.

“Thanks. You don’t think it’s a bit much?” Turning to the side, she smoothed the black, skin-tight material down her ass and looked at me in the mirror.

“It depends. It’s a bit much for going to play tennis, but not if you’re going out.”

Amanda scoffed and fluffed the curls in her hair, bouncing them around her bare shoulders. “That is such a Michael De Santa answer. You sure you’re not one of our kids?” God, I hope not. Otherwise, I’d be a lot more fucked up than I already am.

I forced a laugh and told her goodnight, heading up the stairs to find Tracey. But, on the landing, I found her brother instead. Was I doomed to run into each member of the family tonight? I just wanted to go home, not cycle through each De Santa family member one by one. “Hey,” Jimmy said, leaning a hand on the stair rail to keep me from walking past him.

With a sigh, I looked up at him. “Hey.”

“Look, about this afternoon. I’m not some dumb drug dealer, okay? I wasn’t even the one selling it. I just happened to be in the same car as the guy who was dealing.” I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t think he was a dumb drug dealer, but he kept going. “And I know you’re probably used to my dad’s stupid outbursts, but it really pissed me off that he had to do that in front of you.”

“Jimmy,” I stepped up onto the landing to be eye level with him. “It’s fine. I’m used to. I don’t think you’re a dumb drug dealer.”

From behind me, I could hear Tracey gasp as she threw open her bedroom door. Not a second later, her arms wrapped around my waist. “Oh, god! I was so worried about you.” Somehow, I didn’t believe that.

“So worried you took my car and left me?” I turned in her arms as she winced, taking a step back. I ignored Jimmy as he called her a bitch under his breath and moved toward her bedroom. She had her cell phone laying on the bed and the radio was on. My keys were nowhere to be immediately seen. As she came up behind me in the doorway, I whirled around to face her. “Your dad thinks I smoke meth now, by the way. He gave me a lecture in the middle of a strip club. I was humiliated, Trace.”

She took me by the shoulders and pushed me into her bedroom, shutting the door behind us. I could see desperation in her face and knew she was going to try her infamous charm to get out of this one. “I know,” she moved me to the bed and took a seat on the mattress next to me. “I’m so sorry. I just—I kept thinking if he came out and saw me in the car, he would yell at me too and take my car away for even longer than he already has and I panicked. I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Tracey’s mother yelled up to us that she was leaving for a few hours. No one responded to her and after the front door shut, I heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’m not mad. Can I have my keys?” I held my hand out on my lap, but no car keys were placed in my palm. Instead, Tracey stood and circled the bed, biting her thumb nail as she paced the floor in front of her vanity. It was only now that I noticed she wasn’t wearing her leggings and T-shirt she had on earlier. She was dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a crop top with a pair of low top sneakers. I rolled my eyes before she even opened her mouth to speak.

“Just hear me out, okay? This would be a huge favor and—”

“I already did you a favor tonight!” I could not believe what I was hearing. I stared at her as she sat on the opposite side of the bed.

“Yeah, but…you didn’t get the drugs, so…can this be my favor instead? Pretty, pretty please? You’d literally just have to stay in my room while I go out so my parents will think I’m up here.” Her favors were really starting to piss me off. Before I could even tell her no, that guilt I had felt earlier, the shame of knowing I had done unthinkable things behind her back, crept up through my guts and I swallowed.

“I don’t even see the point. Your mom just left, there’s no telling when Mi—your dad will be home. And since when do you care if they know you’re out all night?” There really was no point in arguing with her. She and I both knew I would cave to her. I always did. But, my point still stands. She had stopped caring about what her parents thought a long time ago. Why was she suddenly trying to be a goodie-two-shoes for them?

Tracey rolled her eyes. “Because, for the past year or so, we’ve all been trying to be a better family, whatever that means. And, they’re actually going through with their punishments. I’ve had my car maybe a month this whole year. Like, right now, I’m grounded from it. Which is also, why I need to borrow your car too.”

“What the fuck, Trace? Do you need my identity as well? Some cash?”

I had no backbone whatsoever. Even though I was dying to go home, curl up in bed, and sleep for the next twelve hours, I caved to her demands. She had left, with my car and the roll of cash she had given me earlier and promised to be back before I had to leave for class in the morning. Whether she delivered on her promises, I’d just have to wait and see.

Around 11:45, I had showered, changed into my pajama shorts and ratty, old Love Fist T-shirt that I had found in the bottom of Tracey’s drawer. Never once had she ever listened to Love Fist and after I had slipped it on, I realized that it was either left over from one of her boyfriends or it was Michael’s shirt. I resisted the urge to bring the fabric to my nose and inhale his scent, just in case it wasn’t his.

I combed my hair and left it wet, vowing to get up early and run a straightener over it, though I knew damn well I’d opt for sleeping an extra 30 minutes instead. Out in the hall, I could hear the gunshots of whatever game Jimmy was playing and I tiptoed to his bedroom door. With a soft knock, he quickly glanced my way and returned his attention almost immediately back to the game. Something exploded on the screen and he cursed. “What’s up?” His fingers smashed at the buttons rapidly and I doubted he’d even hear me anyway.

“Mind if I shut your door? I’m gonna try to go to sleep.”

“Sure, that’s fine—Oh, come the fuck on!” I shut the door before he could say anything else at the game and turned to make my way downstairs for a midnight snack. The one good thing about staying at Tracey’s house; they always had snacks.

The tile floor was cool to my feet and I hugged my arms over my chest as I opened the fridge. A pizza box jutted out from the top shelf and I ignored it, not wanting to be awake all night with indigestion. In fact, I made a good decision and skipped the junk food altogether, opting for something healthier. I grabbed a bowl of fresh cherries, a bottle of water, and a small block of cheese.

As I passed by the living room, I looked at the enormous projection screen and down at the bowl of food in my arms. If I was going to have a snack, I may as well watch a little TV as well. I settled onto the far side of the couch, stretching my legs out on the cushions before reaching for the remote. As usual, there was hardly anything worth watching on. With one hand flipping through the channels, I popped pieces of cheese in my mouth followed by a cherry. It may not have been my own home, but I had finally found the comfort that I had been longing for.

Now, I just had to find something mindless to distract my thoughts from the absolute shit day I had. Stopping on an old black and white movie, I paused to open my water bottle. I touched it to my lips just as the front door opened in the foyer. I froze, not sure who I was dreading to see most; Michael or Amanda. On one hand, the most I would get from Amanda was a scolding for eating on her nice, white couch. No, actually. I would _prefer_ if it were Amanda walking through the foyer.

Their footsteps grew louder, and I realized they were either making a beeline to the kitchen or coming into the living room. I held my breath and watched as Michael breezed past the arch way to the living room. In the kitchen, he opened a few cabinets and I could hear glasses clinking. A minute later, he stepped around the doorway and froze once he spotted me on the couch.

“Fucking hell, you scared me.”

I didn’t respond, glancing from his face to the shot glass and bottle of whiskey in his hands. I swallowed the sip of water I had taken and sat up, setting my bowl of half eaten cherries on the coffee table. He moved further into the room and took a seat on the couch as well, as far from me as he possibly could get. Neither of us spoke. He poured him a glass, set the bottle down on the table and sat back, looking up at the TV.

“This is a good movie.” He took a long sip from his glass, not glancing at me. I didn’t want to tell him that I had no idea what the hell the movie was about or even called. We fell into silence as we watched the screen. It was neither comfortable or awkward between us. It just was and I played nervously with the drawstring of my shorts, wrapping it around my fingers as he drank.

After the second glass, he sighed and pushed his hands through his hair, finally letting himself glance my way. I knew he was going to speak before he uttered a sound and I braced myself for it, knowing how I would react to hearing his voice.

“Listen,” he said, confirming my suspicions. Why did he have to sound so good? He had the kind of voice that fit perfectly with the old movie we were both pretending to watch. It was deep and raspy from drinking too much whiskey and smoking too many cigars. I held my breath, looking at him out of the corner of my eyes. “I’m sorry for earlier. When I called you stupid, I didn’t mean it. You’re _not_ stupid. You’re probably one of the smartest fuckin’ people I know.”

My cheeks blushed, and I bit the inside of my lip, wanting him to keep going though I could tell apologizing wasn’t something he was used to doing. “It’s fine, really. I was being stupid.”

“No, you were just doing what you thought was right. And, I just,” he paused with a heavy sigh, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I lost my cool when I saw you in Trevor’s office.”

“Michael,” I looked at him now, which was a mistake. He looked so good. I hadn’t gotten a chance to really look at him in the strip club. He was wearing one of his famous, dark grey suits, as if he had just gotten home from work or something. The white button up shirt he wore beneath the jacket fit nicely across his chest, more than likely tailor made just for him. My fingers itched to rip each button off.

“What?” He asked with a look of amusement on his face. I blinked.

“What?”

“You said my name and then kind of just spaced out.” So I had. Shit. I had been too distracted by the sight of him to even finish my sentence. What had I even wanted to say anyway? My cheeks burned as he chuckled to himself and reached for the bottle on the coffee table. He topped his glass off, but instead of taking a sip from it, he passed it to me. My fingers were shaking as they wrapped around the cup and as my little finger brushed against his, I held my breath. Whether he noticed it or not, I couldn’t tell.

I looked down into the dark liquid and found the ability to speak again. “So, is this the drink you’re going to tell me about your past over?”

He put the bottle to his lips and paused, raising an eyebrow at me. “It could be.” He took a drink and I did the same, watching him from over the top of the glass. Inside my chest, my pulse raced just a bit faster. “What do you want to know?”

Oh, there was so much. There was a flurry of questions in my mind and I had trouble picking just one to start off with. I tapped my chin and pulled my legs up onto the couch, turning so I was now facing him. “How many people have you killed?” The look of surprise on his face made me bite the inside of my lip. God, he was cute.

“ _That’s_ what you want to know?” I nodded, and he let out a small laugh, sitting up so he could lean forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Do you want exact numbers?”

“I’ll take a ball park estimate.”

“A lot. In my defense, the majority of them were trying to kill me. I just killed them before they could.” He answered it so simply, as if he were spouting off how many baseball games he had been to in his life. His blasé attitude toward it should have disgusted me. I shouldn’t have been so intrigued by him. “Any other questions?” His tone was one of exasperation, but there was something in his eyes, a small spark as he looked over at me that told me he wasn’t bothered by this as much as he let on.

I inched closer to his side of the couch, swirling the whiskey around the glass in my hands. The next question came into my head and it was the one I had first wondered about. “Were you in the mafia, or a spy, or something? I’m just trying to wrap my head around how everything lead to you being _here_ ,” I explained, gesturing to the room around us.

This time, he took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head as he looked around at the living room. “Honestly, I don’t even know. I made bad decisions and mistake after mistake and somehow, got lucky. It’s hard to believe.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He turned to look at me, his eyes searching mine as silence stretched between us. The only sound was the movie still playing on the screen that neither of us were paying any more attention to. I drew my finger around the lip of the glass in my hand and held his gaze, unable to look away and not exactly wanting to. I could feel that same spark that existed between us, the same one I had felt in my parent’s kitchen. It was like a sudden flame in a dark room, almost blinding. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he was going to answer me. But, his voice broke through the silence between us.

“I was a thief, a con-artist, hired hitman, anything that would make money. Every dollar I ever made was stolen from someone else or earned from killing people.” He said it was such finality, as if after I knew the truth, I would be disgusted. It was quite the opposite. If anything, I was even more intrigued. Michael sat back on the couch and looked away from me, turning his attention back to the movie playing.

“I always thought you were a movie producer.”

“Oh, I was.” He looked at me, his eyes flickering down to my lips for a moment before taking in the rest of me. “Briefly. Is that my shirt?”

I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my lips as I glanced down at the black T-shirt. The band logo was peeling from too many washes and there were a number of holes across the hem. But, I had to admit. It was the comfiest fucking shirt I had ever worn and there was no way it was going back into the bottom of Tracey’s drawer. Lifting my head, I smiled smugly at Michael. “It was. But, it’s mine now.”

“Is that right? Hmm,” He paused to take a sip from the whiskey bottle, eyeing me from the corner of his eye. “You’re lucky it looks so good on you, otherwise I’d be asking for it back.”

The urge to giggle like a preteen was a strong one but somehow, I managed to not make a fool of myself and instead brought my glass to my lips to take a sip. “You’d have to take it off of me, first,” I said around the edge of the glass. My bold flirtation took me and Michael both by surprise. I wasn’t the type of girl who made a move, ever. My typical dating style was praying that the other person was braver than I was. With Michael, I felt different.

He wasn’t some preppy, frat guy who had more money at 20 years old than anyone ever deserved to have and a phone full of girls to cycle through. He was mature and knew what he wanted. And what I hoped he wanted, was me. Because, God knows I wanted him. The skin across my body was practically tingling at the thought of being with him again and I wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey giving me a bit of liquid courage, but I wanted to make it happen.

“I think we both know I’m more than capable of doing that,” Michael said in a low growl that set my body on fire. I wanted more than anything for him to come take it from me. Hell, my body was practically begging for me to just crawl onto his lap already. But, I was feeling a bit daring and for some reason, wanted to tease him for a while first.

Though he expected me to come back with some little quip to keep our flirting rolling along, I turned back to the movie and settled back onto the couch again. I was, however, much closer to him than I was when he first sat down. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin, clearly a little annoyed that we had stopped. “What movie is this, anyway?”

“An American Divorce. You’ve never seen it?” He sounded distracted and I could feel his gaze on me. I stretched my legs out and propped them on the coffee table, scooting closer to him. By now, our thighs were almost touching, and he had the arm closest to me draped along the back of the couch. It would be so easy for me to slip closer and lean against his chest. I was sure he wouldn’t have a clue what to do. I pinched my lips together with my teeth to keep from laughing but, he seemed to notice. “What’s so funny?”

I turned my head to him, glancing to his lips before meeting his gaze once again. “You seem distracted, Mr. De Santa.”

“Oh, we’re back to that, now?” He leaned forward and set the bottle of whiskey down on the floor by his feet before glancing back at me from over his shoulder. “You’re really testing my patience tonight, Ms. Andrews.”

Good. It was exactly what I wanted to do. I tilted my head to the side, watching as he untied the laces of his shoe and kicked it off. He turned to the other shoe. “Where’s Tracey?”

“Asleep.”

The next shoe came off and he set them beside the couch, leaning forward so he could take his jacket off. “Amanda and Jimmy? What about them?” The white button up looked even better without the grey jacket and I licked my lips as I stared at his shoulders. With a small chuckle, he loosened his tie. “You seem distracted, Ms. Andrews.”

Damn…why did I like it when he called me that? I blinked and pulled my legs up onto the couch. “Out, and in his room, playing video games.”

“Good,” Michael growled, turning on the couch to face me. His hands grabbed me by the arms and pushed me onto my back. I barely had time to gasp before he was moving between my legs, holding himself over me. “I don’t like to be teased, Lilah.” Oh, God…I loved the way he said my name, like it tasted so good on his tongue. “Do you know what happens to little girls who like to tease?”

I opened my mouth and was promptly silenced by the feel of his hand between our bodies, pressing against my sex through my shorts. I was speechless, frozen beneath him on the couch. We were pressed so close to one another that I was sure he could feel my heart beating against his chest. Whimpering, I shifted my hips. His hand followed my movements, drawing soft circles around me. “Michael,” I breathed, wishing he’d kiss me or fuck me already. “What if we get caught?”

“We might,” he said softly, his lips barely grazing mine. “But, that’s what you like isn’t it? The danger of being caught?”

 

He was right. Knowing that any second Jimmy could walk down the stairs and see his father on top of me, or Michael’s wife could traipse through the door and catch us, was turning me on more than I could have ever imagined. My body was trembling from the excitement and my breath was already ragged in anticipation. His lips curled into a slow smile as he pushed his fingers between my shorts and panties. He was so close to where I wanted him to be, but not close enough. I wiggled my hips against him, trying to push up into his touch. It was no use. The weight of his body kept me pinned down to the couch.

“It’s not so fun being teased, is it?” He whispered, his lips brushing softly over mine.

Oh, this was absolute torture and he was enjoying every minute of it. I whined, turning my head away from him so he couldn’t see the pout on my face. The chuckle he gave vibrated against my chest and he ducked his head to kiss my neck. Between my legs, his fingers were still playing at my center, barely touching me through the damp fabric of my panties.

“If you keep teasing me like this,” I said as he lifted his head to look at me with an eyebrow raised. “I’m not going to care who walks in and sees us.”

“That right?” Michael curled one finger around my panties and touched my slick flesh. I could tell he was enjoying watching me squirm beneath him, conveniently not letting me feel how it was affecting him. “Is this what you want?” He pushed his middle finger inside me and my back nearly arched completely off the couch, pushing my chest into his. It stayed inside me, barely pulling back before sliding in once again. Michael pressed kisses down my throat, nipping at the flesh along my collar bone with his teeth before he raised his head to look up at me. “Or would you prefer me to use my tongue?”

Oh, _fuck_.

My head fell back against the couch cushion, the weight of his body lifting off mine and his finger slipping out of me making me shiver. He pulled my shorts off but left my panties, moving them to the side as he draped one of my legs over his shoulder. His tongue was warm and wet against me and I couldn’t control myself. My hips jerked from the touch and I pushed my fingers into my hair. How could it feel so good when he hadn’t done anything yet?

When he slid his tongue along my folds, pausing at my clit to circle it, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I released the hold on my hair and clamped a hand over my mouth, knowing it was going to take all of my energy to keep from making a noise. With my heart hammering loudly in my chest, I tried to listen for any sound that someone would walk in on us, but it was hard when he was distracting me with his tongue.

Michael circled one hand around my thigh, keeping me from squirming away, and held my panties to the side with the other. I knew his eyes were watching me. I could feel them burning across my body.

He lapped his tongue flat against my clit, teasingly slow. Each time my body shuddered and I gasped, he pulled back just enough to make me whimper in protest. I had definitely learned my lesson about teasing Michael De Santa, but he was ruthless. He wanted me to suffer before I got my pleasure, and he was loving every minute of it. As I moved my hand to the back of his head, sinking my fingers through his hair to keep him from pulling away, I could feel him smile against my pussy.

It was as if a switch flipped off. There was no more teasing little circles or smiles as I whined. Michael pushed his tongue against me, curling it around my clit as he sucked and licked. My thighs trembled but he held them steady, my ass halfway off the couch and my legs draped over his shoulders. I reached up and grabbed the back of the couch, letting my head fall back. He groaned against my pussy, the sound vibrating his lips around my clit and I gasped.

Fuck, I was already close.

I had never felt anything like this. He had to be some sort of sex god. That, or my other experiences were garbage in comparison. Either way, I could feel my orgasm building more with every little swirl and flick of his tongue. I pulled myself up onto my elbows and watched him with my mouth open. His eyes flickered to mine and I could see that wicked little spark behind them. It was enough to send me over the edge. My body shuddered, hips jerking against his mouth and I tried not to make a sound. It was no use.

“I’m coming,” I panted breathlessly. “Oh, fuck, Michael. I’m—”

He groaned again, sucking harder at my clit as I came. I tried to clamp my thighs together, but he kept them open, refusing to let me squirm away from him. He lapped up every bit of me. I could feel it dripping down my ass and more than likely onto the pristine, white couch beneath me. Shit. Why were we always ruining couches?

Finally, he released his hold on me and I managed to curl into myself, my muscles still clenching in waves from my orgasm. He gave me a minute to recover, chuckling proudly as I covered my face with my hands and breathed through the quivering. I could hear him unbuckling his pants and I peeked out from behind my fingers as he stood to his feet. His pants were unbuttoned, but not yet unzipped and I could clearly see the outline of his cock pressing against the material. Oh, God. There was more.

“Turn around,” he ordered, pulling my hands from my face. I wanted to protest, to tell him I wasn’t quite ready yet, though it was quite clear that he was. He lifted me from the couch with ease and spun me so my back was against his chest. My jaw fell open as he took my panties and ripped the fabric at my hip, letting them fall away from me. Before I even had time to react, his hand in the middle of my back pushed me forward. My hands grabbed the back of my chest and my knees met the cushions.

He pulled my ass back against him and I could feel his cock against my still soaked pussy. He pushed it into the folds, but not yet inside me all the way, rubbing it up along my slit. I groaned, pushing back against him. I was more than ready for it now, no matter how much my body was begging for a few minutes of rest.

As he slid his cock inside me, stretching me around him, I buried my face in one of the pillows to conceal my moans. God, if anyone came in the room right now, I would die. Although, the voice in my head told me that I would probably just keep letting Michael fuck me no matter _who_ walked in. As he fell into a steady pace of thrusting himself into me, I opened my mouth and let out desperate breaths.

I turned my head to the side and could just see him over my shoulder. His brows were furrowed in concentration and his fingers were digging deep into the flesh around my hips. I had though the last time we had fucked on a couch that he had been deep inside me. This time, it was like he was proving me wrong on that.

He filled me to the hilt with every thrust inside me, making my eyes roll back into my head and hands curl tightly around the edges of the pillows. “Fuck,” Michael hissed, his fingers bruising my sides. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Good enough to come?” I panted, pushing the hair from my face so I could get a better look at him. Our eyes met over my shoulder and he shook his head, though I doubted it was an answer to my question. He was trying _not_ to come. Not yet, anyway. “You could finish in my mouth.”

His thrusts stilled and he stared at me, breathless with an eyebrow slowly arching high on his forehead. I pushed myself up onto my palms and wriggled my ass just a bit against his hips. He grabbed me from behind to stop me, chuckling softly. Before I could repeat my question to him, he slipped out of me and took a step back so I could stand up from the couch.

I spun on my heel and dropped to my knees between the coffee table and Michael’s legs. Keeping my eyes fixed up at him, I opened my mouth and reached up to wrap my hands around his cock. The head touched my tongue and I was pleased to see him rake his fingers through his hair, dragging one hand down to his mouth to muffle the moan. While he was distracted, I took his entire length into my mouth, ignoring the urge to gag at his size. Even though, he might like that, I decided not to find out this time at least.

I sucked along the shaft of his cock, swirling my tongue around the head, tasting myself before burying him back inside so deep I could feel him against the back of my throat. Michael tangled one hand in my hair and held tight, guiding my head back and forth. Every time I pulled back enough to lick the tip of his cock, I could taste a bit of precum.

I looked up to see him let his head fall back, eyes shut in pleasure as he tried to keep his groans as quiet as possible. An alarm was ringing in the back of my head and I ignored it. I knew this was Tracey’s father. I knew it was wrong to be doing this… _again_ and under his roof this time. Hearing my inner voice scream it at me over and over was getting annoying.

And besides, I wanted to savor this moment.

Michael’s fist tightened in my hair as I felt the muscles along his thighs twitch beneath my hands. He gave me no warning, coming hard over the back of my tongue as I continued to bob my head back and forth over his length. I swallowed despite the sudden surprise and glanced to the couch behind him. At least one white, expensive piece of furniture was saved.

Once I was sure he had drained himself to the last drop, I pulled away and let him fall from my mouth with a panting breath. He stepped back and looked down at me, reaching for my hands to pull me to my feet. And for the second time, he completely surprised me by slipping his hand around the back of my head and closing the distance between us.

His lips moved against mine hungrily, hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt around my ribs. I was only vaguely aware that we were both half naked, standing in his living room, but the sound of Jimmy still shouting at the video game reassured me that we wouldn’t be caught just yet. Michael pulled away from my lips, drawing a whimper from my throat. I opened my eyes to look up at him and bit my lip to keep from smiling.

“What?” He asked, holding my face in his palms.

“I can’t believe you ripped my panties.”

He let go of my face with another soft chuckle and stepped back, letting me turn to look down at the pathetic remnants of my pink, cotton panties. They were ripped at the seam and I bent down to snatch them before they slipped in between the cushions to be found months down the road. As we both got dressed, me in my shorts and Michael in his pants, he turned to me.  “I’ll buy you some more.”

I don’t know why, but the thought of Michael De Santa buying me panties turned me on all over again and I felt the muscles between my thighs clench. I tucked away that thought for later and watched him slip his shirt back over his shoulders. Thankfully, he left it open and I could see his tattoos and chest hair between the two strips of fabric. I lifted my gaze to meet his and grinned. “Promise?”

* * *

 


	5. Danger Is The New Drug

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AN - Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for taking nearly 6 months off from this story! Hope you're still interested and still reading because I've decided to write more :)   
Enjoy!

 

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Why had I signed up for a night class? It always seems like a good idea at the beginning of the semester because hey, I get to sleep in. But when the night actually rolls around and I’m sitting in a classroom at 5:45 when I could be at home or doing something far more fun, the regret starts to sink in. Which was where I was at the current moment, drumming my pen against the side of my knee beneath the desk.

The words on the dry erase board could have been Greek to me. I was in no frame of mind to pay attention tonight and hoped that I could figure this all out at a later date. Hopefully before any important exam as well.

But, how was I supposed to concentrate on Economic Statistics when I couldn’t stop thinking about  _ other _ things. It had been two weeks since the night I had spent in the De Santa household and two weeks since my last orgasm. Well, that was a lie. I had given myself plenty every day since then, but none from who I really wanted it from.

I hadn’t tried to reach out to Michael. Not because I didn’t want to. I was just terrified of someone aside from him seeing a text from me. It would be easy to explain in theory.  _ Oh, I had tried calling Tracey and couldn’t get through to her _ , but the seeds of uncertainty would be sewn, and I wanted to hold onto this secret for as long as possible.

Not just because it was fun but because he had given me two of the best orgasms of my life and I definitely didn’t want  _ those _ to end due to my impatience. I knew I would see Michael again, knew that we would share more experiences together. I didn’t know how I knew…I just did.

“I think that’s a good stopping place for us tonight,” Professor Walsh said as she closed the thick textbook she had been teaching from. I shoved my books into my backpack and jumped to my feet before the words had even left her mouth. While the rest of the class gathered their things, I shot out of the door and hurried down the steps of Aaron Hall where most of the business classes were located.

Though I was free from the mundane topics of economic data, I still had to return a few books to the library and wouldn’t taste freedom until that task was completed. Why had I slacked off all afternoon long? Oh, that’s right…I had been masturbating.

The thought put color to my cheeks and I ducked my head, hurrying across the lawn that lead to Howell Library. The massive brick building wasn’t too far away and in less than ten minutes, I could officially start the weekend right with a huge bottle of wine and junk food that waited for me at home. But, before I could make it to the front steps of the library, I heard my name being called. I spun and blinked in surprise to see Jimmy De Santa of all people jogging up to me.

His basketball shorts stretched down to his shins and I wondered if he intended them to be so long, or if it was because he was so short. I hugged the library books to my chest and smiled to him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Jimmy?”

“Oh, you know, just figured I’d see what this college shit was all about.” He looked around and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his zip up hoodie. My eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Really? I could show you around and get you some information if you wanted to start classes in the—”

Jimmy’s face broke out into a grin as he laughed, throwing his head back. “You thought I was serious? Nah, I’m here to drop off some weed for a friend.”

I rolled my eyes, mostly at myself for believing one of the De Santa children would ever be interested in higher education and sighed. “I thought you weren’t a drug dealer.”

“I’m not!” He put his hands up in surrender. “I owe a guy a favor. He lives in one of the frat houses but I’m supposed to meet him in front of the library.”

Not surprising. Just walking through the halls of any building on campus, I could witness people popping pills, smoking weed and even snorting a couple of lines of mysterious powder. None of the administration could stop it and after fighting it for the last few years, they’ve given up and settled for advising students to just be safe with their drugs of choice.

“Well, don’t get caught this time. Security usually makes their rounds about this time and the guards usually have something to prove.”

“Probably to make up for the lack of a real job. These guards usually want to be a cop so bad they’d suck a dick to wear a uniform,” Jimmy sniffed and glanced around cautiously before returning his gaze to me. He looked me up and down and I was thankful that I had an armful of books blocking him from seeing my chest. “You got class this late?”

“I did, but we’re out now. I was just returning some books before going home.” I glanced up to the building behind me with a sigh, wanting nothing more than to jump into my PJs and pour a glass of wine. It seemed Jimmy had more to say.

“You wanna hang out when you’re done?”

A decline to his offer was already on my lips but I quickly snapped them shut to stop myself from saying anything too quickly. I raised an eyebrow and studied his round, boyish face as he stared up at me with hope in his glazed eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“I was gonna meet up with a friend and maybe go to the strip club. We could do something else though, if you don’t want to do that. See a movie, grab some food?” Yeah, that sounded too much like a date and I would definitely not do anything that could possibly put ideas into Jimmy’s head about us. But, the mention of the strip club immediately drew up memories of the night I had met Trevor Phillips and tried to buy a bag of drugs from him.

Would Michael be furious with me for associating with him again? It might bring up that wrath I had seen in his eyes too few times. I bit my lip and looked down at Jimmy from the top step of the library. “Which strip club?”

“Vanilla Unicorn. I know the owner so I think we could drink for free.” Like we both couldn’t afford drinks. It was such a tempting offer.

On one hand, hanging out with Jimmy could bring me closer to Michael and my body was already begging for that outcome. I could feel the muscles between my legs clench in anticipation of getting another one of those infamous orgasms. And for some reason that I really couldn’t even begin to understand at the moment, I kind of wanted to see Trevor again. Just to get another feel on him. He and Michael seemed close, despite the warning the latter had given me.

On the other, I’d have to hang out with Jimmy and though knocking back drinks at a strip club wasn’t a typical date, I didn’t want him getting any ideas whatsoever. I glanced back at the building behind me, particularly to the night deposit slot and figured I could trust the librarian enough to check the box before my books could be counted as overdue.

“Hanging out on a Thursday night at a strip club?” I chewed my lower lip in thought. Despite the fact that my head was having difficulties figuring out what I wanted to decide, it seemed my body had already come to a conclusion. Another thought of Michael’s head between my thighs, tongue swirling around my clit stole my breath and I bit back the grin on my face. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up in surprise and for a second, I could tell he was wracking his brain, trying to figure out what to say. “For real? Shit, alright. Uh, let me just drop this chronic off and we can go hit up the titty bar!” 

I laughed and shook my head, looking down at the books in my arms. “Alright, you go do that while I return these books. I’m parked down by the street if you want to meet me at the car when you’re done.”   
“Fo’ sho’!” He excitedly jogged away, hurrying to meet up with his buyer in the dark spaces between some campus building, leaving me to my books. I deposited them quickly in the night return box and hurried toward where my car was parked on the street. It wasn’t ten minutes later that we were both on our way to the Vanilla Unicorn to see the infamous Trevor Phillips again.

Sweat and booze was the main scent in the air of the club and oddly enough, it didn’t make me wrinkle my nose in disgust this time. In fact, I took a moment to observe my surroundings as Jimmy strolled in like he owned the place. It seemed that the start of the weekend had brought a larger crowd than the one I had seen and small groups of men mingled around the stage and in the semi private rooms that faced the main area. 

I moved my feet and followed Jimmy down the two steps toward the stage. For a moment, I thought he was leading me to where a girl with short, platinum blonde hair was currently twirling around the pole with more skill I could ever dream of having. But at the last second, Jimmy turned to a round table pushed into the corner and dropped into one of the chairs. From his position, he had a perfect view of the stage and I took the seat next to him so I wouldn’t block his views. 

He drummed his fingers over the table and I glanced down to them as I slipped my purse between my feet on the floor. “You thirsty? I could get us some drinks.” 

Alcohol did sound pretty nice at the moment. I nodded, glancing toward the bar where a large, neon sign advertised half price jello shots all night. “Get me a couple of jello shots.”  
  
“Jello shots, right! I’ll be back in just a minute.” He rushed to his feet and hurried up the steps. Unfortunately, the emcee spoke up, announcing Fufu’s time was up and that there was going to be a short break before the next dancer. A line of men formed at the bar and Jimmy hung back to politely let a few of them pass in front. I shook my head and sat back in my seat, turning my attention to the few girls strolling through the room, prowling for any man willing to spend some cash on a private dance.

As I scanned the faces around the stage, I felt a strange sensation creep up the back of my neck. For some reason, it felt as if I were being watched. I glanced back at Jimmy to see him trying to chat up a group of guys in front of him, and failing miserably. They all stared at him like he had grown a second head and I turned away from them. On my second scan of the room, I found a pair of dark eyes so focused on me that I did a double take with a tiny intake of breath.

I knew I would see him tonight. He was one of the main reasons I came along with Jimmy, but I didn’t think I’d see him this soon. Or that it would be this intense when I did. 

He was standing by the stage, an arm draped over the railing. When anyone walked by him, they gave him a wide berth and I wondered if it was because they could tell he was dangerous...or if it was just something I could feel. 

Trevor pushed away from the railing and I held my breath, unable to stop my eyes from going a bit wide. He hadn’t looked away from me yet, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. I was suddenly more nervous than I had been for my SATs. My hands fidgeted beneath the table and I found myself glancing back to the line Jimmy stood in. He was still three or four people back from the bar. It seemed that I would be alone with Mr. Phillips for at least a few minutes. 

I swallowed and glanced up through my lashes as Trevor slid into the chair across from me. I forced a smile, but I knew he could see how nervous I was behind it. 

“Didn’t expect to see you back in here.”  
  
“I didn’t exactly expect to be back in here myself. I came with Jimmy,” I said, pointing to where the short, pudgy guy stood at the bar. Trevor didn’t look back at him. Did that mean he knew I had came here with him? Had he been watching me the whole time? The thought sent a chill crawling over my skin despite how warm I suddenly felt.

“So, is there a third De Santa child I don’t know about?”

My eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “What?”

“You seem to be around them more than I am these days.”  
  
“I figured Michael would have told you that I’m Tracey’s best friend.” It was only after I said it that I realized I had said his name so informally. Thankfully, Trevor didn’t seem like the kind of guy who cared much about formalities and he didn’t even blink at the use of Michael’s name.   
  
“He did. I’m just trying to figure out why I never heard about you before. Now, I see you twice in two weeks.”  
  
“They never mentioned you either.” I was feeling a bit defensive at his accusations. What did he think? I was some spy, sent to uncover the dark secrets of the De Santa family? I folded my arms over my chest and pursed my lips as we continued to stare at each other. He didn’t seem like the same guy I had met last time. But then again, I wasn’t some stranger trying to buy drugs from him tonight. You’d think he’d be more suspicious of me  _ last time _ . 

“You know,” he started, leaning over the small table toward me. I was thankful that I was sitting back. We would have been far too close for my comfort if I hadn’t. “I couldn’t help overhearing some of the argument you were having with our dear Michael the other night.”  
  
Fear prickled at my spine and I clenched my hands over the vinyl seat beneath my thighs. I tried to wrack my brain for what I could have possibly said that night and couldn’t remember much except being irrationally angry at him.   
  
“Of course, trying to get him to admit to anything is like pulling teeth.”   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab--”

Before I could finish denying any knowledge of what Trevor could be suggesting, two brightly colored, plastic shot glasses dropped onto the table in front of me. The jello inside them had consistency that looked more like pudding and I doubted the congealed blob would help with the ball of nerves in my stomach. I smiled up at Jimmy as he beamed a grin to Trevor. 

“Uncle T!”  
  
Whatever look of strange suspicion that had been on his face was quickly wiped free and he stood to his feet, reaching over to embrace Jimmy around the neck. “Ah! It’s good to see you out of that house! Playing video games all day will rot your brains, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimmy said, pushing the man’s arm away from him as they both took their seats again. I turned my attention back to the jello shots in front of me, suddenly more interested in them than seeing the reunion around the table. I plucked one from the table and downed the contents, letting the blob of cherry treat slide down my throat. 

It was instantly clear why it looked so weird. There was enough alcohol in it to make a drunk sputter and cough. I put my hand to my mouth and winced from the taste.  
  
“I see you’ve met Lilah. She’s friends with Tracey for some reason.”  
  
“So I’ve heard,” Trevor mumbled as he leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over the back of it. “No offense,  _ Lilah _ , but you don’t really look like the kind of person Tracey usually associates herself with.”

I couldn’t tell if that was an insult to me or Tracey and decided to shrug it off. “Well, we’ve been friends since middle school.”   
  
“Lilah goes to ULSA. I think Mom and Dad hope she’ll rub off on me and Tracey.”  
  
I shifted in my seat and hoped Trevor didn’t think it was because of the mention of Jimmy’s dad. I tucked my hair behind my ear and cleared my throat, turning to watch the new stripper take her place on stage. “I’ve never been to a strip club before.”  
  
“Mmm, weren’t you in here not too long ago?” Trevor asked, bringing a beer bottle to his lips as I jerked my attention back to him. 

“That wasn’t to enjoy the club.”  
  
Jimmy wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and glanced between the two of us. “Wait, do you two know each other?”  
  
Thankfully, a rather buxom dancer sidled up to the table and put her hand on Trevor’s shoulder. She bent over, her breasts nearly spilling out of her tiny, black top. I blinked, trying hard not to look directly at her cleavage while Jimmy did the complete opposite. His gaze was glued to her tits and wavered only to slip down to the curve of her ass. 

“You want a private dance, sugar?”  
  
“Hmm, not tonight but my young friend here might like one.” Trevor pointed to Jimmy who took a few extra seconds gawking at the stripper before looking up at the man. 

“Huh? Me?”  
  
The woman smiled and held her hand out, putting the other on her hip as she waited for him to snap his mouth shut and follow her. Across the table, Trevor fished out some crumpled twenties from his pocket and stuffed them into Jimmy’s fist. I swallowed, not sure if I liked the idea of being left alone with this guy right now. As the woman pulled Jimmy toward the steps, I knocked the second jello shot back and managed not to gag this time.

Despite the music pumping out of the speakers in the corners of the room, the silence between us was too tense. I darted my eyes away from him, looking anywhere though he kept his gaze fixed on me.   
  
“What’s your story, Lilah?”  
  
“My what?” I asked, looking at him with a frown.

“Your story, your deal. Everyone’s got one and I want to know yours.”

I shifted in my seat and glanced to the two empty cups in front of me. Jimmy had left the bottle of beer behind and I reached for it, needing more alcohol in my system before I could start down this road. At least we weren’t talking about Michael. Thank god for small miracles, I suppose.

“It’s not very exciting, I’m afraid.”  
  
He blinked at me and I sighed, knowing there’d be no getting out of this. Squaring my shoulders, I sat up and looked to where a blonde woman in a purple corset climbed the pole and spun around it, her legs spread wide to show the whole room what she was working with. “I’m just Lilah. I spent my whole childhood working toward being Valedictorian and now that I’m in college, I’m working toward Suma Cum Laude. I don’t have much of a life outside of school.”  
  
“Jesus, you weren’t kidding.”

“Yeah, well,” I paused, scowling down into the half drank beer Jimmy had left behind. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in a while. Well, except for--” 

Our eyes met over the top of the table and I swallowed, quickly looking away. Trevor, it would seem, didn’t want to let it go this time. “Except for  _ what _ ?”  
  
I wracked my brain, coming up empty handed aside from the usual visuals of Michael and I fucking the two times we had. But, through the flash of good masturbation material, I remembered the other bout of excitement I had experienced. My eyes lifted back to Trevor and I shrugged a shoulder. “Except for the night my best friend’s father murdered someone in front of my eyes.”  
  
“Ah, so you must know more about Michael than I thought you would. See, he’s kind of weird about letting people in on the secret.”  
  
Oh, now he had  _ my _ attention. I leaned forward a bit and put my elbows on the table on either side of the beer bottle. “About what he is?”

“And what do you think he is?” Trevor leaned closer and I could smell a faint mixture of sweat and what I could only assume was some of the ingredients to make his little stash of methamphetamines. It was strange that instead of nauseating me, it was kind of...well, nice wasn’t the right word. More like, the smell of him spoke to something deep inside me, something primal and something I couldn’t even begin to explain. 

“That he’s a thief. And he’s killed more people than I ever want to imagine.”  
  
“Ah, that would be correct. Mikey and I go way back and in some ways, you could consider us business partners. So, you can see why I’m a little suspicious of someone like you.”

I blinked at him. “Someone like  _ me _ ? What do you mean by that?”

“Someone new, someone who can’t be trusted, someone who  _ might _ be after more than just friendship with Michael’s darling daughter.”

Wait...was he accusing me...of trying to get close to Michael through Tracey? It was clear he’d been smoking too much meth if  _ this _ is how his brain was wired to think. I couldn’t help laughing as I shook my head. “I’m not after Michael, okay? I really am just Tracey’s best friend since we were eleven years old.”  
  
Trevor narrowed his eyes and all of my laughter quickly died down, leaving nothing but nervous fear in its stead. “He’s a rich man, you know. And after what I had heard between the two of you, it seems like you’re in a perfect position to blackmail him into something nefarious.” 

And just like that, my laughter returned. It bubbled to the surface and I couldn’t hold it back no matter how much I tried. His eyes widened in furious surprise and I shook my head, holding my hands up in surrender before he could reach across the table and throttle me. 

“Trevor, I’m not trying to blackmail Michael into anything. I don’t need his money. I just...like him.” Once the words were out of my mouth, the regret immediately set in. I watched the different emotions pass over Trevor’s face quickly and wondered if mine mirrored his. Surprise and doubt were the two he showed first, followed by that same suspicion from before. 

“You... _ like _ him? Now I know you’re up to something because no one  _ likes _ Michael. We tolerate him! He’s a fat, washed up bank robber who lazes around his house and complains all day like he ain’t sitting on a giant pile of cash. What is there to  _ like _ about that?”  
  
Again, I laughed and shook my head with a shrug. “I don’t know. He’s always been nice to me. And he’s not fat.”  
  
“Well, he ain’t thin.” Trevor drummed his fingers across the tabletop and frowned at me again, still not convinced though I was telling the truth. Well, most of the truth. I didn’t figure he had to know about my teenage crush on Mr. De Santa, or the fact that we had did the horizontal hoedown twice now. “What’s a smart girl like you doing liking a piece of shit like that anyway? Shouldn’t you be dating soon to be lawyers or tech geniuses?”  
  
I shrugged, looking down at the bottle I spun in my hands. Truth be told, I had dated those kinds of guys before. Hell, my first boyfriend was off in Liberty City, running for some political office. But they always kind of bored me. Which wasn’t shocking. Everything about my life bored me, except for the sudden infatuation with a dangerous man. Though I had never been the kind of girl to bare my soul over alcohol to perfect strangers, I felt compelled not to give Trevor my usual spiel about not finding the right guy yet. I lifted my eyes and met his gaze.

“I have dated those kinds of guys. They see excitement as jetting off to the Caribbeans for the weekend, or gambling on the stock market and I see it as…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Not because I didn’t want to tell him, but because I didn’t even know how to finish it. The only thing close to excitement that I had ever experienced in my life were times when I was doing things I wasn’t supposed to.  Having sex with my first boyfriend in the school library, getting drunk during one of my mother’s galas she loved to throw...riding through the city with no panties on, watching a man twice my age gun down two guys. I blinked, pulling myself out of my thoughts with a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just looking for something  _ different _ .”

“Ah...I think I’m beginning to understand.” Trevor sat back and folded his arms across his chest, the corner of his lips lifting with a smirk. There was something about the look in his eye that made me nervous, but in a good way. In a way that almost felt like the kind of nervous I felt around Michael. I found myself returning his smile and tilted my head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“You may not be after money, but you’re definitely chasing something.”

Before I could ask him to elaborate on his epiphany, someone dropped into the seat next to mine, startling me. I had completely forgotten about Jimmy during my strange conversation with Trevor. 

He had a smile on his face, one that I really didn’t want to know what caused it, and he sat back in the chair. “You need to give these girls a raise, Uncle T.”

“Gross,” I mumbled around the rim of my beer bottle, averting my eyes from both of them. I downed the last of the beer and decided I wasn’t drunk enough to deal with all of this right now. Between my weird confession to a man I didn’t know and Jimmy fresh from getting a lapdance to fuel his fantasies for a week, I definitely needed more alcohol. And as disgusting as the jello shots had been, they’d at least do the trick for cheap. 

I excused myself from the table and made my way to the bar, not looking back at either of them. The heady bass of the music matched my steps and I could feel it vibrating through my body as I passed by one of the speakers. At the bar, the woman behind it gave me a forced smile and asked what I wanted. I ordered two more shots and downed them without taking a step away. The alcohol burned exactly how I wanted it to but it didn’t help me forget the fact that I just confessed to Michael’s best friend about liking a man I definitely should not. 

I held up two fingers to the bartender and she made me another pair of shots, setting them down in front of me before she moved to the next customer. I tossed one back, swallowing the chunk of jello just as I felt someone’s presence at my side. 

“You know,” Trevor’s deep voice was barely loud enough to hear over the music. He made up for it by stepping close to me, practically speaking against my ear. I tried not to shiver, but it was impossible. “I can tell what you’re chasing after.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” I asked, my lips pausing around the rim of my plastic shot glass. “What’s that?” I could feel his eyes on me as I turned the cup up and consumed the contents. This time, the alcohol was doing its job. My face was flushed and I could feel a warmth spreading through my body. 

“What you were saying about excitement, about not knowing what it was that you wanted. You know what it is. You just don’t know how to explain it.” 

I frowned up at him and crossed my arms over my chest. My brain was having a bit of trouble catching up with the rest of me and I tried to think about what he was saying. He was right. I knew that much. I just didn’t know how I felt about him being right. “And how do you know that?”  
  
“Because, I used to feel the same way. I just didn’t try to ignore it and hide behind higher education.”  
  
“I’m not hiding.” I was immediately defensive though I knew it was a lie. Hiding was exactly what I had been doing for years. But, what else was I supposed to do? My entire life had been written for me before I had ever been born. I was simply a character under the control of my father. 

“Bullshit. I think you’ve gotten a taste of exactly what you want and you’re too scared to admit it.”

He was wrong about that. I wasn’t afraid to admit it. I knew what I wanted...I just didn’t know  _ how _ to get it again. There were too many factors standing in my way, too many things that could go wrong and I didn’t want Michael to get hurt in the process. As much as I loved our little rendezvous, both one and two, I didn’t expect it to happen again. The more we did it, the more it was likely that we’d get caught. He’d lose his family and I’d lose my best friend. There was too much at risk. 

I brushed my hair away from my face and crossed my arms. “And what do you think I want?”

Trevor smiled wolfishly and if I hadn’t been inebriated, I probably would have shrank away like a frightened little rabbit. But the vodka coursing through my system refused to listen to any sensible side of my brain begging me to back down. Instead, I leaned forward just a fraction of an inch. It was enough to make my chest and arms touch his. He bent his head lower, his lips brushing against my earlobe. 

“You want danger.”

My eyes slid closed as his gravelly voice entered my ears and a small shiver rolled down my spine. Okay, maybe I had been wrong before. Maybe I didn’t know what I had been wanting. No, that was stupid. I wanted Michael, had wanted him since I first learned about sex and desire as a teenager. 

But what Trevor said did make sense to me. The night Michael had taken me home, I had been incredibly turned on by just seeing him point a gun at those men. And if I hadn’t been too terrified during the chase, I probably would have realized that it had made me wet as well. Even Michael had mentioned something like this on his couch the other night. 

_ ‘That’s what you like isn’t it? The danger of being caught?’ _

I didn’t know what to do with this...What did this mean? Was I more fucked up than I had previously thought? I didn’t have much time to answer the questions suddenly flashing through my mind. Trevor reached out and gently curled his fingers around the back of my neck to hold me steady. I sucked in a tiny breath at the feel of his calloused fingers against my skin. 

“I can show you danger, Lilah.”

Oh, I believed him. My entire body was on edge just sitting across the table from him. Now that he was right against me, touching me and whispering into my ear, I felt as if my knees would buckle out from beneath me. 

All too soon, he pulled away from me and I blinked up at him through the haze of vodka blurring my vision. There was a smile on his lips that made me bite my lower lip. “You know where to find me if you’re ever in need.”

The emcee’s voice blared over the speakers, announcing the new dancer taking her place on stage. I could only watch as Trevor took a step back before turning on his heels to make his way to the curtained doorway leading back to his office. Even after he had disappeared behind the curtain, I stared after him, trying to process the wave of emotions pulsing through my body. 

His and Michael’s words echoed through my head, leaving me breathless and aroused to the point where I could feel my nipples pressing hard against my bra. I wanted to see him, wanted to get my fix. And though I knew Trevor would be more than obliging to my current needs, I was still apprehensive. Michael I knew, I was used to at least. Trevor seemed like he’d be...Well, I had never did drugs, but I’m assuming it would be like that. 

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. 

A little voice in the back of my head, a voice that hadn’t been muted by the multiple jello shots I had consumed, spoke up all of a sudden.  _ ‘Oh, you’re ready for it. You’re just afraid’ _

* * *

 


	6. Something Dangerous

* * *

 

 

 

A week later, I was laying on Tracey De Santa’s bed, flipping through one of her endless magazines while she updated her Bleeter page. Her fingers tapped at the keys and I slapped through another page, glancing at the different items of clothing she had circled. “So, you’re coming this weekend, right?” She asked, never looking away from her computer screen.

I stifled a yawn behind my wrist and closed the magazine, glancing back at her with an eyebrow raised. “Coming to what this weekend?”

She took a moment to pose for a selfie, making sure to shrug her shoulder out of her pink robe so that she captured just enough curve of her tit to be a tease. I rolled my eyes and laid my head down on her bed, wishing I could just go downstairs and sit with Michael on the couch, or the pool. Wherever he had decided to spend his afternoon.

Unfortunately, Amanda was home as well and I really didn’t want to be in the same room with the both of them. Not just because I was fucking her husband behind her back. Hearing them argue was getting old and now that her court date had been established, tensions were riding quite high.

Tracey finished taking a round of selfies and turned back to where I was laying on her bed. She dropped her phone onto the table and joined me, sprawling her legs out by my head. “It’s Dad’s birthday Saturday so we’re all going to Las Cuadras to celebrate.”

This made me lift my head from the bed and widen my eyes in surprise. “Oh really? That actually sounds fun.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, except I’m pretty sure Mom is only making a big deal about it get on his good side so he’ll pay her settlement costs.”

I swallowed tightly, the words not wanting to form in the back of my throat. “Maybe she’s just trying to show she loves him.”  
  
“Yeah, right. You’ve heard the way they fight.”

“Just because they fight, doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

It disgusted me to say the words out loud. Not because I was jealous (which, let’s be honest, I _was_ ) but mostly because I knew if they ever _did_ split, I might be one of the factors and I didn’t know how to feel about that. Wait, yes I did. I felt _terrible_ and it was because of that thought that made my stomach ache so badly I thought I’d puke anytime I dwelled too long on it.

“Whatever. All I know is, we’re going Saturday night and since I have _no_ date, I’m bringing you.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

 

* * *

 

 

Being friends with Tracey had its perks. She always knew where the parties were, she always had good advice on what the latest fashion trends were, and I could count on her to make sure I was wearing something that would turn heads. Which is exactly what she picked out for me to wear to dinner Saturday night.

I was beyond nervous about the dinner. It wasn’t like it was my first time eating with the whole family, but it was definitely the first since things had taken the turn that they had. I didn’t know if I could even bring myself to eat if I had to see Michael and Amanda being the model husband and wife pair. Hell, I knew firsthand that they weren’t, but having to see them play pretend was already not sitting very well in my stomach.

Why had I agreed to this again?

Oh yeah, it was exactly what Trevor had said. I’m chasing danger.

God, I hated how much sense that made in my head. I hated that this was who I was. Most of all, I hated how I knew it was wrong, knew how horrible it made me, and yet...I refused to stop it.

I got ready alone in my room, though Tracey offered to do my makeup at her house. Truthfully, I needed the alone time. For half an hour, I sat on my bed in a towel, trying to convince myself to fake a virus and stay home. But, each time I picked up my cellphone to text Tracey, I would get the little traces of feeling, the ghosts of Michael’s touch on my body and I would put the phone back down.

I hated myself as I put my makeup on, making sure I looked as fresh faced and naked as I could because I had heard him several years ago talk about Tracey wearing too much makeup and how he preferred girls without it. I hated myself as I stepped into the deep red, crushed velvet dress that I had bought specifically for tonight. It was a gorgeous dress and it hugged my curves like it was made specifically for me. I knew Michael would love it and I wondered if he would try to steal glances at me all night.

I hated myself for hoping he would.

The dress was paired with black, strappy heels that I also bought for the occasion. They were too sexy to pass up and with the short length of the dress, they made my legs look amazing. I left my hair down, with a slight curl to the ends. It was all very retro and I knew I looked like an old, Hollywood actress. I had planned it that way because I knew it’s what he liked.

By the time 7 rolled around, I was applying lip gloss and reaching for my cell phone, knowing the taxi would pull up outside any minute. While I waited, a text popped up on the screen.

**Trace: are u meeting us there??**

_Yep, about to leave_

**Trace: Good. Ur never gonna believe who Jimmy brought as a date**  

Oh, god. There was no telling. Maybe it was the stripper that gave him the lap dance the other night. I laughed to myself as a horn honked from the gate outside. I grabbed my purse and made sure to set the alarm before hurrying out to the taxi waiting for me.

The driver’s gaze looked me up and down and though I would normally be a bit disgusted by the blatant sexist behavior, I let it slide tonight. It was nice to have affirmation that I looked good. As I stepped into the backseat, another text vibrated the phone in my hands. I turned it over and gave the driver the address to the restaurant. He said something but I had momentarily gone deaf, too distracted by the message on my phone.

**Michael De Santa: Tracey mentioned you were coming to dinner tonight. That true?**

Oh god...Did this mean he didn’t want me there or that he was looking forward to it? I couldn’t tell from his message and my fingers were shaking by the time the taxi was pulling away from the curb. I quickly typed a response.

 _She said I was her date for the night...is that ok?_  
**Michael De Santa: More than ok. I might actually have something to look forward to now**  
  
I held the phone to my chest and bit my lower lip to keep the grin off my face. Where was he that he could be texting me like this? I looked back down at my phone and began typing again.

 _Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to buy you a gift.  
_ **Michael De Santa: That’s alright. I’m sure you’ll think of some way to make it up to me**

_You’re being awfully naughty tonight, Mr. De Santa_

**Michael De Santa: Oh, we’re back to that now are we, Ms. Andrews?**

Fuck. I had hoped that I would be able to be good tonight. It was hard enough being around him when we couldn’t be alone, but he’s got to tease me like this before dinner? It wasn’t fair. I could already start to feel myself growing wet and was thankful that I had worn panties beneath my dress. It would be hard to explain what was dripping down my legs if he kept this up.

After a short drive, we were turning onto Morningwood and the muscles in my thighs clenched in anticipation. I could see a small crowd gathered around the entrance to the restaurant and wondered if I would have to wait outside.

The cab pulled up to the curb and I asked the driver to wait while I made sure Tracey and Co. were already inside.

**Trace: In the back room**

I paid the driver and took a deep, calming breath in the seconds before stepping out of the cab. Was this outfit too much? Should I have played it safe with some jeans and a nice top? Compared to the other people standing around outside the door, I was way over dressed. And the way they all stared my way as I made my way up to the restaurant confirmed my fears that yes, I was way over dressed. Embarrassingly so. But it was far too late to back out now. My only excuse to bail would be a sudden case of crippling diarrhea and I wasn’t about to use that.

Inside, the host took one look at me, his eyes darting down the length of my body, before he made a bee line to me.

“May I help you, Miss?”

“Oh, my party is in the back. The De Santa—”

His face lit up and I was relieved when he ushered me through the dining area to the right. The place was packed, which was typical for a Saturday night at peak dining hours. We weaved through the tables and avoided waiters carrying enormous trays of steaming dishes until the room ended at a pair of French doors that were covered with sheer curtains. The host pushed them open and the sound of lighthearted banter and laughter met my ears.

I ducked inside and clamped my bottom lip between my teeth. The table seated nearly 12, but only six people sat around it. I immediately spotted Tracey first, sitting back with her phone beneath her nose and looking about as bored as I expected her to look. Jimmy was to her left with an empty chair between them that I really didn’t care to sit at. But it was the man next to Jimmy that made my heels plant firmly on the tile floor.

I had expected to be met by Michael’s intense, unwavering gaze on me as soon as I entered. Hell, I had even counted on Jimmy to gawk at me the way he usually did. But what I _didn’t_ expect was the dark smirk on Trevor Phillip’s face. He was sitting back in his chair, elbow draped over the back of it and his head turned toward me, eyes half-lidded as they swept down my body. Even stranger was the reaction I felt rolling through me. He had dressed in a grey sweater with a collared shirt beneath him…Well, either that or someone had forced him to dress nicely. It looked odd on him, juxtaposed against the obscene tattoos on his knuckles and neck. But despite how out of place he looked, I couldn’t help the smile pulling at my lips.

The host gave a polite bow as the rest of the table turned to look up at me and I stood at the end of the table, feeling quite naked despite the garment on my body and the fact that I had _not_ gone commando tonight. I scanned the group and settled on Michael’s face, relieved to see the look in his eyes was much like the one Trevor had given me.  
  
Heat flared across my face and I turned to the one face I didn’t recognize. An older man sat to Michael’s left, wearing an expensive suit. He stood to his feet and reached a hand toward me.

“Solomon Richards,” he said with a friendly smile.

“Lilah Andrews, nice to meet you.”

“Lilah,” Mrs. De Santa said, making me turned toward her. She had a tight-lipped, forced smile and stared at me from over her hands tented beneath her chin. “It’s good to see you again.  
  
I lowered myself into the chair between Jimmy and Tracey and glanced to see her typing a block to text to whoever had her so preoccupied for the night. Possibly the methed out boyfriend, but who knew with her?  
  
“Thanks,” I breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before glancing back to Michael. “Happy birthday.”  
  
He opened his mouth to say thanks but was abruptly cut off by his wife. “Well, it’s not his birthday until Monday, technically. Do you have somewhere to be after dinner?”  
  
Her tone wasn’t necessarily hostile despite my jaw clenching tight. The tone was definitely suggestive though, most likely to the way I was dressed and the fact that it may not be so appropriate with this many males around the table. I folded my hands in my lap and shook my head, hoping I appeared every bit of innocent as I was trying to look.  
  
“No. But the night is young. Who knows where it’ll lead?”  
  
As soon as Mrs. De Santa’s gaze left mine, I looked to Michael and the corner of my lips lifted in a sly smirk. Thankfully before I could be grilled any further by his wife, the waiter appeared to take our orders and Mr. Richards excused himself.

“Well, I should be going. I have dinner reservations of my own, but I thought I’d stop by and wish you a happy birthday, Michael.” He stood from the table, shook all of our hands, and promised us tickets to the next blockbuster premiere. I watched him leave, wondering exactly who the hell he was, but figuring it was another mystery to the Michael puzzle that I would never piece together.

Both Trevor and Michael kept the conversation rolling on their own, with Jimmy or Tracey chiming in here and there. Amanda and I remained quiet through our meal and by the time the waiters were taking our plates away, I came to the conclusion that I had only spoke six times through the entire meal. Which wasn’t too uncharacteristic for me, so I wasn’t worried.

“Would anyone be interested in seeing the dessert menu?” The waiter asked politely.

“Hells yeah!” Jimmy’s arm reached across my body and his elbow bounced my left tit, quite possibly on purpose. I sighed out of my nose and crossed my arms over my chest, keeping my gaze down to the glass of water in front of me. As Jimmy pondered over which over-priced item he wanted, the waiter took the rest of our plates and we were alone in the private room once more.

The silence that followed was only broken up by the mariachi music playing from the main dining room and Jimmy quietly debating between the chocolate caramel flan or the churros and ice cream. I pursed my lips and though I could feel someone’s eyes boring into me, I refused to look up. Had I known there’d be this much uncomfortable silence, I might have used that diarrhea excuse after all.

The urge to leave was growing, but thankfully, before I could stumble my way through a half-assed lie to leave, Michael cleared his throat. This time, I looked up and caught his gaze as he swept it across the four of us on the opposite side of the table. He looked relaxed, sitting back in his chair with one arm slung across the back of Amanda’s, but there was tension in his jaw. I shifted in my seat.

“Well, I guess since we’re all here, I’d like to make an announcement.”

Tracey never put her phone down and Jimmy stared between the two menu items as if he were choosing between a life or death option. I remained silent but Trevor let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me. You’re going for another colon cleanse.”

Michael ignored him and glanced to his wife before giving a crooked, sideways smile. In the back of my head, I could only hear the Tammy Wynette song, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. I quickly shook it away and felt myself lean forward in anticipation.

“I bought a theater. The Ten Cent Theater, actually.”

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome!” I meant it. As much as the guy loved old movies and classic cinema, he deserved to do something like this for himself. But, my excitement instantly died the moment I saw the shock and anger behind Amanda's eyes as she blinked up at him.

Even Jimmy and Tracey abandoned their distractions and stared at their father with wide eyes and slacked jaws. From two seats down, Trevor picked up his beer bottle and brought it to his lips. “Uh oh,” he mumbled around the rim.

“Michael, how much was that?” Amanda asked with a shake of her head.

He shrugged and took his arm away from her chair. “I don’t know. Around ten mil, give or take.”

“ _Ten million dollars_?” If we had been sitting in the main dining area, the music would have screeched to a halt. I flinched at her outburst and glanced behind Tracey’s head toward the door. How long would it take for me to bolt? Maybe fifteen steps. I could be out of there before a fight truly broke out between them.

But I was frozen to the spot, glancing between the two of them.

“Daddy, that’s like half of our money!”

“What the fuck, pop? Don’t you think you should have discussed that with us first?”

I glanced between Jimmy and Tracey, astounded by their entitlement. Then again, maybe I was biased toward Michael. The urge to defend him was pressing against the back of my throat and when my eyes darted to his, I found him looking at me. He looked away and gave a shrug.

“No, I don’t think I should have discussed _my_ plans to spend _my_ money with you.”

“ _Your_ money?” Amanda’s face was turning red and I could tell the bottom was about to drop out. Was it too late for me to leave? I felt trapped, too scared to move and too caught up to do anything besides stare between the two of them. “We’re a part of this family too, Michael! That was _our_ money.”

“Oh, really?” His voice deepened and I flinched, not out of fright. No, that tone he took was the same one he had used that night when I saw him kill a man. It made my thighs clench beneath the table and I swallowed tight. “I wasn’t aware any of _you_ were involved. Did any of _you_ steal a single dime? Did any of _you_ get shot at by mercenaries, cops, or the FIB?”

Amanda’s eyes met mine and I stared back at her. If I was smiling, I wasn’t aware of it. But I couldn’t exactly help it in that moment. I was finding out way more about Michael than I ever thought possible. And he was admitting it so willingly in front of me. Why was this turning me on?

“Tracey, take Lilah home,” Amanda ordered.

“What?! There’s no way I’m leaving _now_! This is a family discussion and I am part of this family!” To emphasize her point, Tracey stomped her foot like a child and crossed her arms over her chest.

My hands were shaking as I pushed away from the table. I didn’t want to leave, but it was becoming clear that I would no longer be welcome in the conversation. _Damn_ , I thought, _I was hoping to hear more_. “I can just call a cab,” I said as I stood to my feet.

“I’ll make sure she gets home okay.” From behind me, Trevor pushed his chair back and stepped around Jimmy’s. There was a strange glint in his gaze that froze me to the spot. Before I could even think up a coherent response, Michael was standing.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“What?” Trevor held his hands out and turned to face him. “I’m a responsible adult, Michael. I own two successful businesses—”

“You also cook meth and kill people for fun!”

My eyes went wide, and I looked between the two of them. Behind me, the waiter stumbled through the doors and gawked at the scene. It was clear he had heard Michael’s last statement and the terror in his eyes would have been funny under any other circumstance. He stammered a few times. “D-did everyone decide o-on dessert?”

“Just the check,” Michael said in that voice that made my entire body shiver. Goosebumps covered my arms and ducked my head, hoping my desire wasn’t written across my face. As the waiter scrambled out of the room, Michael turned back to Amanda. “You and the kids go back to the house. I’ll take Lilah home and when I get back, we can discuss this more.”

“Oh, that’s always your plan, Michael. You go off for hours, hoping we cool down, and then you come traipsing back home smelling like booze and strippers.” Amanda snatched her purse from the back of the table and stood to her feet, eyes blazing with fury.

“Well, it’s better than having a fight where everyone in the god damn restaurant can hear it!”

“I mean, I don’t mind taking a cab home.” I shrugged, watching Amanda storm around the table. She looked at me and I shrank away. Her wrath was the last thing I wanted to face in that moment.

“He’s only using you as an excuse. As soon he puts you in the back of a cab, he’ll be off with Trevor fucking Phillips to do only God knows what.” With a quick glance back, she snapped, “Come on, kids.”

“Call me when you get home,” Tracey said as she passed, pausing to give me a one armed hug. Jimmy leaned in after her to do the same and I backed away with a shake of my head. They threw open the French doors, nearly knocking the waiter back against a table in the process, and soon, it was just the three of us. Well, plus the waiter.

He shakily handed the check over and Michael dropped several large bills on the table, not even glancing at the amount he owed. I stood awkwardly beside the chairs, not sure if I should just leave and get a cab on my own or wait. My body was begging for me to just wait. I didn’t buy a dress and get this dolled up just to spend an hour eating dinner and go home.

Trevor stepped up next to me and I could feel his gaze slip down the front of my body. He made a hum in the back of his throat and I pursed my lips, keeping my eyes on Michael. I had to admit though, the closeness of his body, the smell of fresh cashmere mingling with sweat, and knowing he was ogling me did things to me. I was starting to feel like I had the night I went commando.

“Mm,” he grunted, finally looking over my head to Michael. “What now?”

“I take Lilah home and you go back to wherever you came from.” Michael took a hold of my elbow and steered me out of the room. We passed through the maze of tables and the crowd of people enjoying their meals. A few people glanced our way and judging by their upturned noses, I could guess that they assumed I was a hooker.

I crossed my arms over my chest and ducked my head, following the two of them out into the evening air. It wasn’t as refreshing as I had hoped it would be. The crowd waiting to get into the restaurant was just as massive as it was when I first walked in and I hurried to keep up with Michael.

His car was parked on the sidewalk and he crossed to the driver’s side, not even glancing my way. I dropped into the front seat and directly behind me, Trevor slid into the back. Michael turned to stare at him as he put the key into the ignition. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“To be honest, Michael, I don’t trust you to be alone with such a young, impressionable girl.” I looked out the window to hide my smile before he continued. “What exactly are your intentions with Lilah?”

“My intentions? I certainly don’t intend to feed her drugs and take advantage of her—”

“Are you implying that I would do something like that? If I’m going to drug her up and have my way with her, I’m going to get her consent first. I’m not going to say I’m taking her home like a fucking white knight before I—”

“Actually,” I finally cut in, though I had to admit, I was kind of enjoying them argue over me. “I don’t want to go home.” The two of them turned to stare at me and I flashed a smile. “I bought a new dress for tonight and I don’t want the night to end before nine.”

“What, you want to go have drinks or something?”

Like hell I was going to waste a night alone with Michael _and_ Trevor on drinks at some random bar. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted, but I knew that wasn’t it. I wanted excitement. I wanted to feel that panic attack inducing danger I had been craving. I shook my head and looked out the windshield of his car.

“Let’s do something dangerous.”

* * *

 

 

AN- Thanks for all the comments and kudos! 


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